I know I need some type of closure, and for some reason, I think it's a good idea to start by going everywhere that Rosé and I went, to see if I can still feel what I did when I was with her.
So I go to Miami.
I know the second the plane touches down in Miami International that it's not a good idea. It already feels emptier, colder, without her here, and after picking up my luggage, I head out to the front and find my dad, already standing by his car, waiting for me at the pick up point. His eyes find mine through the throng of people, and when they flicker my right, like they did when I was here with her, to find me alone, I falter and break all over again.
Though he says nothing and comes up to me, wrapping me up in an embrace and telling me how much he's missed me in my ear. He doesn't pick me up from the ground, hugging me tight like he did last time, and I know immediately that he knows something's up. I suppose my mom said something about how me told her I was coming alone, how I wasn't bringing 'my little friend' and it makes something grow inside my chest because fuck, I wish Rosé was here.
Anyway, he holds me closer, hugging me for longer than necessary, and when I pull away, he doesn't even ask me if I need help, just picks up my luggage, slings it over his shoulder and carries it to the car. My mind flicks back to when he did that for Rosé, how he never does it for me usually and it makes that thing in my chest get that little bit bigger. Like I've said before, I hate sympathy, but something about him doing this, being nice to me, doesn't make me angry... it makes me want to cry.
Like when I was a kid and felt ill at school. The teacher or the assistant would ring my parents, and I'd be fine right up until they walked through that door, and then I'd just break down. Everything would feel a million times more painful because I was surrounded by love, and it was only then that I realized how much pain I was feelings; and this situation is just like that.
Back in New York, I have friends that love me surrounding me, sure, but it's not the same and so I could feel numb. I could push away the pain. But now I'm here, in Miami, surrounded by family, people who love me unconditionally and always will, and it just becomes so obvious how much pain I'm in. How much I miss Rosé and how much it feels like someone's punched a hole through my chest.
My dad drives me back to the house, and he tries to make small talk but I'm hardly responsive. I just nod along, hum in acknowledgment and maybe offer a word or two when he asks me a question, but otherwise he doesn't push and instead of being pissed for the sympathy like I was with my friends, I welcome it. It doesn't feel like my dad's looking at me like a kicked puppy, like it felt like with Jisoo and Jennie, and I actually feel like a bitch for feeling like this because I know Jisoo and Jennie were only trying to look out for me... but it's just not the same.
But I don't want to focus on that. The reason for coming here was to find some closure, to make myself feel better, but all I can think about as the car cuts through the streets of Miami is how Rosé held my hand in the back seat the last time we were here. How I gave up sitting in the front, catching up with my dad like I did all those times before, just to be with her and shit, I'm going to fucking cry if I keep thinking like this.
So I force the thoughts away and when I get home, my mom wraps me up in an embrace, much like my dad did, and it feels too tight. It feels like she's suffocating me but I push through it, plastering on a smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes and she just kisses me on the forehead and tells me she's cooking dinner and that it'll be ready soon but I can pack my bags away for now. So I do just that, and head on up to my room but when I get to the door, I freeze.
Because I can't sleep in here.
The last time I was here, I had Rosé. I had her in my arms, on my lips, under my hands. I had her everywhere, invading each one of my senses and I didn't care because I was in love.
I loved her, and I knew she loved me back.
It was in this place that I fell in love, or rather, that I realized I was in love. It was in this place, that I welcomed Rosé into my family, that they welcomed her into my family and it was in this place that I realized I didn't want anyone else. I just wanted her.
But it doesn't feel the same.
It isn't the same, and even though I choose to sleep in that room anyway, hoping that I might regain some of that... warmth, and sense I felt when she was here, it doesn't come. It doesn't come when I decide to go to the beach after dinner and when my dad offers me the car like he did last time. And it definitely doesn't come when I go to the beach, sit down in the same spot Rosé and I did with my arms wrapped around my legs as I watch the sun set, to try to see if it comes back with another memory of her.
But it never does.
Because it isn't the same as before.
And it's not going to be.
It won't be because she's not here, and I'm missing the part of me that can enjoy anything because she took it with her. She took it with her when she left, when she moved halfway across the world, and when I return home after my trip to the beach, my cheeks stained with tears and eyes visibly reddened, my mom gives me concerned glances and my dad sits worrying his lip between his teeth because I'm not the same person I was before and they know.
I try to get away from it, and try to prove that I'm not a complete mess but it's hard to do that when I go to take a shower and end up crying, half-naked, sitting on the closed toilet seat because the last time I was in that shower, I was with her. The last time I was in that shower, I had an epiphany and realized for the first time in my life, that I wanted something that'd been right in front of my very eyes for years. It was in that shower, that I really saw her, that I realized I really loved her; and in the end it's so painful I forgo the shower and end up crying yourself to sleep in my bedroom, memories flashing through myy mind.
So that's why the next day, when I'm eating breakfast, glancing at the chair that she previously sat in, remembering the way she held my hand as we both ate my favorite breakfast food (that she remembered) that I decide I need to go home. This place just hurts too much, and so I tell my mom and dad and even though they're disheartened that I've only been here for a day and I'm already leaving, they tell me they'll pay for my ticket and hours later, I'm hugging them goodbye and my mom's telling me to keep safe (though it sounds a lot more like something else) and that if I need anything, don't hesitate to call.
And I do need something, but it's something I can't have.
But I can't tell her that, so I just nod, put on a fake smile and climb into the taxi before heading off toward the airport, waving them goodbye.
***
June, July and August
The weeks turn into months, and time passes with the blink of an eye.
Before I know it, it's the Fall and my heart hasn't been beating right ever since Rosé left six months ago.
I know contact works both ways, and I know that Jisoo and Jennie, and the rest of the gang still hear from Rosé every now and then... but I can't bring myself to talk to her. She hasn't tried to call me, or text me, or even taken time out for a freaking email, and there's still times when I think about it and end up throwing things around my apartment, smashing windows and lamps and groaning the next morning because my superintendent is surely going to kick me out soon. But I never stay mad for too long, because I've never been able to stay mad at Rosé for too long.
I never could.
Still, there are those mad times, but then I get those times when I break down because I just need to hear her voice. I just need to know she's okay, and not via Jisoo or Jennie. I just need to know that she's still out there somewhere, still thinking about me and it's those times where I just crumble and break, crying tears I didn't think I had. It's those times where I end up barely breathing, curled up on my bed, clutching to the hoodie that doesn't smell like Rosé anymore with one hand and pulling at the necklace wrapped around my throat that I can't bring myself to take off because it feels like it's the only thing I have left of her.
And I hate it; that I'm stuck hearing about Rosé's life from my friends because I know I should be the one hearing about it instead.
But she hasn't tried to talk to me, and I don't think she wants to.
So I don't try to talk to her either.
***
I don't even know who I am anymore, and the worst part is, I don't even want to try to find out.
Because that means being someone without her.
And I don't want to do that.
***
September
I haven't cried in over a month now.
Or rather, I make it a month before I do. But it's a new record, and I guess that's something to be proud of.
I'm standing behind the coffee machines at work, and when Jisoo slides me the next order, I freeze because it's September now and the customer wants a hot chocolate. It sounds weird, but when my mind brings back all these memories of Rosé telling me how sad it was to make my first hot drink after months of just making cold ones because Summer's over, I don't find it so strange anymore and find myself choking up instead.
It's not like I haven't thought about her, because I don't think I'll ever be able to get to that point, even if she does miraculously return like she promised she would.
(I've learned that promises don't mean a thing.)
But I just get choked up because for months, I haven't had anything that's surprised me. Anything that's suddenly reminded me of her like it did before, in the previous months where I'd always find something little, like one of her shirts stuffed beneath my bed, or that mug at the back of my cupboard that only she would ever use. After a while, I'd just found them all, gotten choked up at them all, and so when I find something new, when something new-but-old comes back, it gives me another dose of pain that's just as fresh as the pain I felt when I watch that taxi driving away, and it makes me freeze.
It makes all these thoughts come rushing back to me, ones of me and Rosé cleaning and locking up the shop, and the many conversations we traded. It makes me remember things I'd forgotten, and all of a sudden I'm dizzy, heat creeping across my face and stinging at my eyelids and I just want to cry.
But then there's someone clearing their throat and I'm being snapped out of it by the customer who clearly ordered the hot chocolate and I get this irrational urge surging down my left arm to reach across the counter and let some of my anger out, but instead push it back, forcing myself to make the order as I ignore the concerned glare Jisoo sends my way and the thoughts still going through my mind.
I manage to get through making the hot chocolate without crying by biting down on my quivering lip and I eventually hand it over to him with an apology, ready to make the next coffee and put all my focus on that instead of the sudden dull throb to the left of my chest. Though it seems God's out to get me, really trying to fuck me over today, because it's just as I'm reaching for the next order that the song playing overhead changes and then you're listening to The Beach Boys sing about how nice it'd be to live in a world where two people belong and before I know it, I'm dropping the order to the floor and running into the back room hastily, slamming the door shut and slinking down against it as the tears fall from my eyes.
One month. At least I made it one month without crying.
***
I never stop thinking about her completely... but my mind just sometimes gives out and refuses to do it because I can't take it anymore.
I never forget her because it's impossible to do that... but my mind just gradually begins to push away thoughts of her, thoughts of the pain and hurt that grips my chest every single day.
I never mean to give up... but my heart just refuses to take it anymore and I find myself hopeless, knowing that no matter how many people come into work, or ring me, or knock at my apartment door, it's not going to be her.
And eventually I just accept that she's not coming back any time soon, and that she wanted to leave.
Eventually I accept that I couldn't have done a thing to stop her leaving. Not even declare my love for her.
That doesn't mean I don't feel like a total idiot for not doing it, though.
***
October
There are still a lot of times where I do think about her. But when that happens, I'm faced with this sudden onslaught of questions like, is she dating someone? Did she find someone else? Did she ever get over me? If her feelings were true?
And it's then that I stop—no matter where it is, whether I'm sitting on the sofa, or in the middle of the freaking sidewalk—I just stop and think.
Because there's always one question that catches me more than the others.
Has she found someone else?
If so, is it some rich British bachelor with a ridiculous accent and a neat five o'clock shadow as a stubble? Does he drive a Mercedes in the day and an Aston Martin at night? Does he have a Land Rover or a Jeep, too, for when he needs to drive across his mass of land when he wants to go pheasant shooting? Can he give her everything I can? Are they in love? Does he mean more to her than I ever did?
I know my thoughts are ridiculous, but whenever they come to the forefront of my mind, I feel all kinds of sick and my stomach flips and flops and I immediately search out a bathroom, or a bush, just so I can throw up because the idea of Rosé being with someone else does that to me. The idea of someone else touching Rosé the way I did, kissing Rosé the way I did, making love to Rosé the way I did, makes my insides turn and heart leap up into my throat.
But I know it's stupid, really.
It's stupid because she's not mine; I made a point of not making her mine before she left.
So if she comes back—when, she comes back—and there's a British guy on her arm, or maybe even a British girl, I can't be hurt. I can't want to throw up at the image of seeing them together, or at the mere thought of seeing them together because I was the one that would've allowed it. I would be the one that Rosé would thank on her wedding day because it would've been down to me that she found someone.
And I hate that. I really fucking hate that and I'd give my left arm, my soul, my whole life to make sure that didn't happen because as selfish as it may be, I want her for myself. I want her to love me, only me, and I know I said all that crap about her being happy and her following her dream, but I honestly don't know what I'd do if she came back, albeit happy, with a boyfriend or a girlfriend on her arm.
I think I'd lose it.
Still, I can't help but wonder how she'd feel if she were with someone else. Would she even feel guilty? Could she even do it? Would she be able to kiss him without thinking about me? Because I know for sure if I went out to a bar, picked up some nameless chick and tried to ease some of my sadness by fucking my thoughts away, I'd feel eternally dirty. I'd feel so dirty, so guilty, because I feel like I belong to Rosé. I suppose my heart belongs to her, but there's more, and I'm not even sure if I could do it... and that makes me wonder whether she could, too.
Shit, though; I've got to stop this. I don't even know if she thinks about me.
I don't even know if I ever even cross her mind like she does with mine all the time.
I don't know if the things that remind me about her, remind her of me.
I don't even know if she cares about me even more.
I don't really know anything.
And the worst part is, I'm not going to, either.
Damn.
***
November
I’m lounging around at home on my day off, not really doing anything when U hear someone knock on my front door.
I think nothing of it, and reluctantly leave my kitchen where I was cooking myself some breakfast and head on over to open the door. What I'm not expecting is Tzuyu to be standing on the other side, and I'm definitely not expecting her to be holding a package in her hand, one covered with brown paper and a thin string tied around the middle. So much so that I jerk my head back, my eyebrows pushing together in the middle of my forehead and I look at her with a confused and quizzical question in my eyes, on my expression.
"It was left for you," is the first thing Tzuyu says and I narrow my eyes because I was sure I checked my mailbox two hours ago, but whatever.
"Oh," I say and take the package from her. "Thanks."
Tzuyu stands there for a few moments, her eyes trained on me and I know she wants to ask how I am, what I've done because the last time I saw her was like, a month ago. I haven't been avoiding her, I haven't been avoiding any of my friends, but I've just kept myself so busy with work, with studies, with exercise, that I've just barely had enough time to organize meeting up with any of my friends.
I used to go over to Jisoo's all the time, or go out with Tzuyu for a drink or two, or even visit Jaehyun for some fashion advice, but now it feels weird because I'm sure what I've done was selfish, but I just needed some time to myself.
And I almost apologize to her, and tell her what I'm thinking but when my mouth opens and my eyes flit up, I find her with an inscrutable expression her face, the cogs turning in her mind and immediately, I know she has something to say. Judging by her face, her expression, I'm not sure I want to hear it.
"What?" I finally breathe out, resting my shoulder against the door frame.
I feel tired, not in the kind of way I need sleep, but in the way that I'm fed up of knowing that people want to say something to me, or are thinking something about me and that they're not vocalizing it. I'm tired, because I don't need judgement, or people sticking their nose in my business because it won't help or solve anything; it'll make it worse.
For her part, Tzuyu doesn't even seem remotely surprised by the tone of my voice, just swallows, wets her lips and chooses between glancing at me and the apartment behind me, clearly debating whether or not to say what she wants to. But like I said, I'm tired of it, and I know Tzuyu means no harm by coming here and looking at me like she wants to say something, but I either just want her to say it or to go away because as much as I love her, I'm just so damn tired of my friends looking at me like they're waiting for the final crash. Like they're waiting for the final break down which I just won't ever recover from.
"Just say it," I continue, shifting my weight from one leg to the other and nudging my glasses further up my nose. "Please, Tzuyu, just... say it."
Tzuyu lifts her head, breathing in deeply and stares me in the eye. "She would've stayed, you know."
I actually feel my heart stop beating at the words, the breath leaving my lungs. I haven't had anyone talk about her since she left. Not directly. Not like this, anyway.
"It doesn't matter," is my immediate response. I can't help it, I just have to cut people off when they mention her out loud, otherwise it just tears me down. And I don't want to hear this anyway because after all, how could she just leave me if I meant that much to her? How much can I, or could I mean if she hasn't even tried to contact me?
"It does," Tzuyu intones, reaching out and setting a hand over my forearm, her tone firm and understanding. "It does because if you had asked, she would've stayed," she repeats. "You must know that."
I find myself letting out a short, mirthless laugh, even though I can feel a strange sort of panic settle in my gut. It's uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and I only find myself freaking out because even though I've heard muted discussions between Jennie, Jisoo and Jaehyun—ones they thought I didn't hear about how Rosé would've stayed—that was only ever suspicion. That was only ever them speculating, never confirming, but there's something in the way Tzuyu's saying it, there's something in the way she's looking at me, her hand heavy on my skin and eyes burning understanding that actually makes me believe that if I'd asked back then, Rosé would've stayed.
At the beginning, a few weeks after she left, I honestly believed that myself. I had no doubt that if I had asked her, she would still be here, she would still be in my arms, kissing me goodnight and waking me up with her warmth in the morning. There was no doubt, but as time went on, I began to doubt everything. I began to doubt her feelings, my own feelings, everything that happened between us and somehow I ended up here: wondering whether she would've even stayed if I'd asked, when months ago, I was certain.
But that doubt did come, and it stayed, it lingered, it grew, and it's the first time in months that I honestly believe that Rosé would have stayed. I can't put my finger on why I believe it, but it just feels like Tzuyu knows something, or is trying to tell me something but without the actual words.
"Did she..." I swallow the words, finding it hard to complete my sentence. I haven't asked anything about her since she left. "Did she say something?" I manage to get out.
Tzuyu looks at me, her head tilting to the side and I watch the crease form between her eyebrows as her eyes narrow into slits. "No," she breathes and I can't figure out whether the sinking I feel in my chest is from disappointment or relief. I suppose the former. "Not out loud," she adds, her eyes dropping to the package in my arms.
But I just look away, unable to take it because I know Tzuyu's just trying to lessen the blow, just trying to make me feel better by saying something she doesn't actually know, but I don't want to hear that. I don't want Tzuyu to try to make me feel better by saying Rosé would've stayed when she doesn't actually know that.
And why would she say that anyway? Why would she bring my hopes up if one day, I'm going to find out they might not be true?
I love Tzuyu, I do, but sometimes she really does need to learn when to shut up.
"Right," I say, frustration edging into my tone. I stand up straight, grabbing the door with one hand whilst the other cradles the package and I stare hard. "Well, thanks for dropping this off," I lift my arm slightly, the attention going to the package and my voice suggesting that I want to cut off this interaction now. "So, I'll see you... whenever."
Tzuyu's brow hardens, her jaw squaring but she nods anyway, despite looking entirely unimpressed that I want her to leave. "No problem," she says, bobbing her head. "See you around."
I watch her walk back down the hallway before I shut the door and head back inside my own apartment. I go all the way to my bedroom and throw the package down on my bed, putting it there because I know I'll forget to open it if I put it on the kitchen table; but I end up just staring at it for a long moment instead of walking away.
I can't remember ordering anything, and it's not like I'm suspicious about what's inside because I receive things like this all the time, and this is probably another, albeit very small and light, care package from my mom since she's been sending me one every week since I left Miami, but I'm still interested. It's only normal for me to feel like that.
And I almost go to open it, my hands reaching for the small bow but then my nose picks up on something burning, on the smell of burnt food and my eyes widen when I realize I left my breakfast cooking on the stove. In a split second, I'm swiping my hands through the air and scrambling out the room, socked feet slipping against the hardwood floor as I run toward my now blackened pancake.
The package, however, is now half-hidden beneath my bed where it fell off the side of the bed in my hasty rush toward the kitchen, and later when I go to bed, I'll be too tired and I’ll kick it further beneath the bed where I'll forget about it.
It probably wasn't even important anyway.
(Probably.)
***
December
I force myself to pretend like Christmas and New Year doesn't happen.
I ignore all the decorations, all the offers, sales and children smiling as a fat guy with a beard pretends to be Santa. I ignore all the questions about what I want for Christmas, or what I'm going to do Christmas day because I know nothing will come in comparison to last year.
Because last year, I was with her, wrapped up beneath bundles of blankets, eating the shittiest, unhealthiest food and watching Christmas movies over and over. We two the one present rule, the one with the cash limit and we both broke it and gave each other our presents, and I know that there's no point in even beginning to think about celebrating this year because she's not here, and that means a very unhappy Christmas for me.
So I spend the day cooped up in my apartment in my pajamas, watching horror movies and comedies to distract me from all the kerfuffle of the Christmas celebration going on outside my apartment and clutching to the necklace still wrapped around my throat. It's been ten months, and I haven't gone a day without touching it, without looking at it in the mirror because it feels like it's the only thing I have left of hers since her hoodie stopped smelling like her seven months ago.
But it's when the sun is going down on Christmas day, when I'm getting up and making my fourteenth cup of coffee that I realize just how stupid I am.
There's no reason for me realizing this, but I'm just standing in my kitchen, my fingers fiddling with the diamond hanging off the silver chain around my neck and it hits me; I'm still waiting for her and I don't know why. She hasn't given me anything to hang on to; she hasn't called me, or texted me, or even emailed me, and I know I'm dumb for waiting for her because regardless of whether she has a new man in her life, or a new girl, or whether she's hurt that I just let her go, I did it with the best intentions and we weren't just having sex, didn't just have feelings for each other — we were best friends.
So she should've called, she should've at least tried to make a freaking effort and as the coffee begins brewing, the temperature rising, it's not the only thing that does that because all of a sudden, I'm pissed. I'm pissed that she's not tried to contact me at all, and I didn't do anything wrong. Admittedly, I should've at least given her an inkling that I felt something for her, but she must have known that. She must have and I know that she felt it back, so she should've fucking called me, or texted me, or tried to talk to me in some way.
Before I know it, my hands clenched so tightly around my necklace that I've broken the chain, pulled it free from my neck and it's lying limply in my hand, hanging off my palm. My eyes grow wide as I stare at it, shock setting in, cold and uncomfortable in my stomach and with my other hand, I shakily grab the chain, the broken end and peer at it.
I can't believe I just did that.
I just broke the necklace.
There are tears streaming down my face before I can even stop them, and my knees are giving out as I crumble to the floor, holding myself close. It feels like I'm caving in on myself, like I've just broken the last thing that held me and Rosé together, and I know I'm an idiot for holding on to something that might not ever be mine again, but I can't help it.
I don't want to stop loving her. I can't let her go. I never will.
Still, this necklace is lying here in my palm, seeming heavier than usual and I feel like I can breathe for the first time in months. Ten, to be exact. It feels like something's lifted off my chest, and my heart falters because I know my body doesn't wasn't this pain. My mind doesn't want to endure it anymore, and no matter how much I want to hold on, I know that really, there's no point.
If Rosé wanted to come back, wanted to talk to me, she would've done.
She would've found a way, come hell or high water.
But she hasn't, and so as I sit here, staring at the last piece I have of her, I realize that she's not mine anymore. She never has been, actually because I never took that step, and neither did she; and I just don't want to keep fighting, waiting, trying for someone who isn't willing to do the same back for me. I'm just too tired.
So I carefully fold the necklace up and tuck it inside my pajama pocket, the tear drops still falling from my eyes as I drop my forehead to rest it against my forearm, shaking it from side to side.
Because even though I don't want to let her go, can't let her go, you've got to find a way.
She's not mine.
***
January
I don't really know how to feel anymore.
I try to pretend like New Years doesn't happen, but it's hard to do that when the majority of the gang are barging in through my apartment door and forcing me to come out with them. But I still get to midnight and I still feel like shit because last year I kissed Rosé at midnight in the comfort of my own home and then made love to her until the sun began to rise and this time I'm standing alone, in the back of a dark nightclub, wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else.
But time doesn't stop for anyone, no matter how hard I wish for it and the rest of January passes in the blink of an eye.
I keep up with the routine I've had for the past eleven months, going for long runs, working extra hard at college and picking up more shifts, and my friends keep on pretending like I'm not heart-broken and keep on pretending like I didn't yell at them for trying to look after me. They don't give me sympathetic looks, or take pity on me; if anything, they act exactly how they did before Rosé left and I'm not actually sure if that bothers me.
I guess I can't have it both ways though, and so I just keep on going as best I can.
Which makes me realize that it's not much of a life I'm living.
Not without her, anyway.
Then before I know it, January's turning into February, and that's when everything changes.
***
February
There's a new girl, Ryujin, starting at the coffee house. She's done a few shifts already, but she's still in training and so someone has to look over her whilst she's using the coffee machine as the last trainee they had, left and tried to sue the company after scalding themselves. Apparently it's my lucky day because when I get into work, Seokjin calls me into the back room and tells me all about the new girl and how she's a little rough around the edges, but mostly nice and so I get to look after her for today instead of Jisoo.
So I get to it, ignoring the smirk Jisoo shoots me because I always get the newbies, and I introduce myself and get friendly with Ryujin and within two hours, I barely even have to correct her anymore as she pretty much has the ins and outs of being a barista down.
But when I'm teaching her how to adjust the temperature of the water, I see Jaehyun and Jennie waltz into the shop, smiling at me and Jisoo behind the counter and approaching it. I don't think anything of it, because they always come and visit and the coffee here is nice and cheap, plus Jisoo and I give them my staff discount, and so I stay with Ryujin, making sure she's got this part nailed to perfection before I go and say hello.
Well, that's what I had planned until I just happened to eavesdrop into my friends conversation and pick up on something that makes my heart stop and blood freeze.
"... So apparently Rosé's coming back this weekend."
I knew it was going to happen; I knew it was coming up for a year since she left but I still feel like it's a shock. I still feel like I've been blindsided and mu hand stills where it's twisting one of the knobs on the coffee machines, my eyebrows knitting together, mouth dropping open and eyes squinting as they slide over toward my friends. I'm sure my heart's actually stopped completely, yet somehow I can still hear my pulse roaring in my ears and still feel the chills creeping up my spine, but I'm not too bothered about my bodily reactions because Rosé's coming back.
She's coming home.
Somehow, I manage to peel my rigid grip away from the coffee machine and blink before glancing back at my friends. My arms drop down by my side, and I can feel Ryujin giving me a perplexed stare but once again I don't care, I just stutter out that she needs to keep practicing the temperature as my quivering legs lead me over to the counter where Jisoo's standing, serving Jaehyun and Jennie.
I know the second I get there, that they know I know, because all of them tense, their eyes drinking in the sight of me; and I guess that I've gone pale, or I'm still in a visible state of shock because Jisoo shuffles a little closer, her hand coming up to my bicep and her head tilting as her vision roams over my face.
"Are you okay?" She asks, warily and hesitantly.
I ignore her, finally swallowing and wetting my dried lips. "She's coming back?" I croak out through a short exhale, something lurching inside my chest for the first time in months.
They all stare at me a little uneasy, and it's ridiculous because it's not like they can turn around and pretend it was all a joke, that they were lying by saying that Rosé's coming back very soon, but they still stay silent like they're trying to see if it works. Though I just wait it out, because I don't need this bullshit, I don't need them to beat around the bush; I just want to know.
Luckily, Jaehyun must sense this, or read the expression my face because he finally speaks up after clearing his throat. "Yeah," he confirms, his fingers drumming nervously against the counter. "She emailed us this morning," his eyes flit to the side, to Jennie, before coming back to me. "She's coming back Saturday."
My mind instantly counts the days in my head and I remember it's Tuesday... which means I have four days to prepare myself. Shit.
"Jesus. You two sound like a married couple," Jisoo cuts in, trying to light the tension by making a joke out of Jaehyun and Jennie and how 'they' receive the email together, not separately.
But I barely even register the joke, my mind is just frazzled.
"Oh, honey," Jaehyun sighs, lifting both eyebrows pointedly. "If Jennie stood naked in front of me, I'd still be more interested in her hairstyle."
Light laughter surrounds me, but I find myself staring at a spot in front of me as my brain goes a mile a minute, trying to process the information I was just given. I can't believe she's coming back. I can't believe I actually got through an entire year without her. I didn't even think I could've gone a freaking day, yet here I am, still living and (barely) breathing after three hundred and sixty-five of them.
It chokes me up a little, and I feel something resembling pride wash over me, but then that familiar twinge in the left side of my chest kicks in and I'm wincing, the dull, throbbing ache settling in as a dry, pain claws at my insides.
I may have survived an entire year without her, but it still hurts as much as it did the day she left.
"Who's..." I pause, trying to find the right words to say. The right question to ask. "Who's picking her up?"
Jennie gives me a strange look like I just spoke a foreign language, Jisoo glances at Jaehyun who glances back then turns to me and answers, "Jisoo, Stella and I are."
There's something in the way they're looking at each other, the way they're looking at me that I don't like. I feel like I should say something, maybe ask about me tagging along and picking Rosé up, but there's stopping me from and I think it's them. Maybe they've considered it, already. Maybe that's why they're staring at me like they're afraid I'm going to ask, and I'm almost scared to ask to go myself because I'm not sure if Rosé's said something about not bringing me. Maybe that's why they're looking at me, actually.
Shit. What if she's actually asked them not to bring me along?
"I would ask if you wanted to come," Jisoo suddenly chimes in, her tone wavering and hands wringing nervously in front of her. Her eyes dart around my face, waiting for a reaction but I stay blank, waiting for her to continue. "But there won't be enough room in the car on the... on the way back," she finishes, lifting a shoulder and offering an apologetic half-smile.
I find myself nodding in understanding before I can even make the decision to. I dip my head, eyes focusing on my sneakers and I shrug myself, trying to play it cool even though I'm a little disappointed I can't go. It's not even like I wanted to, I wasn't sure if I did, but now I can't go, I kind of hope I could've done. I liked having the option, the control.
"It's fine," I say, lifting my gaze again and plastering on a smile. They all look at me, calling bullshit with their eyes. "It's fine," I try again, curving the corners of my lips up a little further like it's going to help. "Honestly. I've got things... stuff to do, anyway, so."
Three pairs of eyes continue to stare at me, trying to figure out the sincerity of my words and I know if I change my expression, they're going to see how much I'm lying so I hold strong; keeping my face locked and body still. They can't tell I'm lying if I try to believe the lie myself.
"Okay," Jaehyun finally says, breaking the silence. "Well, if you're sure."
I bob my head again, this time not trusting myself to say anything as no, take me with you or something along those lines, a desperate plea perhaps, will probably spill from my mouth.
"Great," Jennie speaks up, clapping her hands together like a damn seal. "Well, if that's sorted then we need to go," her eyes shift to Jaehyun. "Okay?"
Jaehyun's eyebrows furrow, his eyes finding Jisoo's in confusion. "But we didn't even get our coff—"
"Time to go," Jennie sing-songs, already grabbing Jaehyun's sleeve and tugging him out the shop.
I just stand and watch as they leave, and I know I'd be suspicious and confused if it weren't for the sudden news that Rosé's coming back, but instead I just shrug it off and turn back to the coffee machine, picking up the next order and getting to making it. I barely get to pouring in the espresso shots when a hand settles comfortingly on my lower back and my eyes slide to the right to find Jisoo right there, eying me warily.
"Are you okay?" She whispers, too low for any customer to hear.
I move my vision back to the task at hand and think about the question. No, I'm not okay, actually. The love of my life, the girl who moved to London a year ago, breaking my heart and possibly her own, is coming back to town in a few days and I don't really know to feel about it, or even how to react.
But I can't say that, can I?
I can't tell Jisoo that I'm inwardly freaking out and wondering how my first meeting with Rosé after a year is going to go, and whether I should initiate it. I can't say that I need to know whether Rosé pointedly asked me not to come to pick her up from the airport and why Jennie and Jaehyun just swiftly left after the slightly awkward conversation.
I can't say any of it, because technically, it's not my business.
So I just end up lifting a shoulder in a half shrug as I pour the frothed milk on top of the coffee and cap it, sliding it across the counter and say, "I'm fine."
Jisoo eyes me for a long time, not buying my lies but she doesn't say anything more and gets back to work.
I don't know whether I'm excited or nervous for Rosé coming back.
***
The days go by so slowly, and I spend my days trying not to focus on how nervous I am to see her again and I spend my nights planning how I can distract myself from doing just that. I barely get any sleep, maybe two, three hours tops every night, then before I know it, it's Friday evening and I'm at Jisoo's, listening in to a conversation she's having with Haein over the phone about when Rosé's flight is coming in and whether or not he's coming here to look after Stella or Stella's going over there.
I excuse myself shortly after, realizing I have like, seven hours before Rosé's due to touch down at JFK as her flight's due to land at 5am, and that I'm absolutely shitting it, and I go home and choose to lie in bed for hours as I'm way too distracted to do anything else.
It's three o'clock in the morning when I finally decide to get my ass out of bed, figuring as sleep hasn't come to do me in previous days that it definitely isn't going to now, and I keep my phone by me, knowing that someone, regardless of who it is, will text me to say that they have Rosé and that they're heading back to someone's apartment.
I try to watch TV, try to distract yourself with some sort of Robin-Barney-Ted love triangle in How I Met Your Mother but then the episode about Robin coming back from London to tell Ted he shouldn't get married comes on and it touches a little too closely to home. Sure, I'm not getting married, but Rosé was in London and that was close enough, so you switch it off, groan as you throw the remote into the armchair and head off into the bedroom.
I change into sweatpants and a tank top, I tie my hair into a messy pony and put on my glasses and then grab my textbooks and laptop and head toward the kitchen table, depositing everything down before straightening up and planting my hands on my hips.
I doubt I'm going to actually be able to study or remember anything from this session—my head's way too full of thoughts—but I guess it might be able to distract me for a little and so it'll have to do.
So I set down my phone by my laptop, take a seat and flip open the lid, reading over the assignment I finished a few weeks ago.
(I keep an eye on my phone the entire time.)
(Just waiting.)
***
Two and a half hours later, you're leaning back in my chair, groaning at the dull ache in my lower back and nudging my glasses up my face as I rub at my eyes. They hurt like a bitch, and my body is craving sleep but I know there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to get it. Especially when I realize it's coming up to six and no-one's text me to say that they've picked Rosé up.
A flurry of thoughts rush to my head, questions popping up here, there and everywhere and I begin to panic, chewing on my nails. What if she missed her flight? What if they lost her bags? What if she never got on the plane?
Fuck.
What if she decided not to come back?
I shouldn't be worrying because I'm sure everything's fine, but there's still that little part of my mind, that little biting, itching part that's trying to drag me down by telling me that Rosé's back safe and that the only reason I haven't heard from her is because she asked my friends not to tell me. Which I know is ridiculous, because I've done nothing wrong, I haven't been a dick and I'm not the bad guy here—not that Rosé is, but she's more of a bad guy than I am—and there's no reason for her to not want to see me, but I'm scared that she doesn't want to anyway.
Maybe she's brought someone back with her. Maybe she did find a rich British bachelor and he swept her off her feet and then flew her back here with first class British Airways, sipping champagne out of fancy ass flutes the entire way. Maybe something happened to her, maybe she got pregnant—no.
I need to stop over thinking this. There's nothing wrong with her, she's probably back at Jaehyun's, or Jisoo's, right now, and my friends might have just forgotten to text me. It's probably something as simple as that.
But that doesn't mean I'm not going to stop worrying. That doesn't mean sleep's going to come easier to me now. In fact, it's going to make me panic more because I don't know why my friends haven't told me she's back — if she is.
I groan at my own thoughts, squeezing my eyes shut because I'd really like to get to sleep now. I'm fed up and tired of my thoughts and I can hear my bed calling for me. But then my eyes drop to my fifth cup of coffee sitting in front of me, a cup that I'm sure is cold now, and I know there's no point in even attempting to go to sleep because the caffeine's going to set in soon and I'm going to be buzzing, so I might as well just stay up and keep consuming heaps of coffee.
I grab the cup and push out from the table, wincing at the scratching sound the chair legs make against the linoleum flooring and head into the kitchen to make a fresh batch, flipping the coffee maker on and tapping my fingers as I wait for it to finish. I sparingly glance around my kitchen, noting down I should clean up at some point as there's dirty dishes stacked in the sink, the kitchen island is covered in crumbs and I'm pretty sure there's a few burnt noodles stuck to the stove when the machine finally goes off and I pour myself another cup.
Though I decide to go for something a little different this time, my tongue isn't appreciating the bitterness of the coffee flavoring and so I reach into the fridge and grab the milk carton, pouring the remains into my coffee. When I take a sip, I moan at the warm liquid settling in my stomach and throw the carton blindly into trash, but swiftly hear the clunking as it bounces off and on to the floor and roll my eyes. I knew I should've taken out the trash.
I think about just leaving it there, but then I remember finding that little brown pellet in the back of my cupboard last week and figure I could really do without having mice, so I reluctantly set down mu cup of coffee and bend down to swipe up the carton. I head toward my front door but pause, eyes shifting down at my outfit, but I figure no-one's going to be wandering the hall's at this time in the morning, or if they are they're going to look equally as shit as me so I open the door, rub over my face and under my glasses with my spare hand and take a step out.
But the second my foot's out the door, I feel a peculiar warmth, an aura almost, greeting me and my entire body freezes, movement halting without conscious thought. My hand stills, covering my brow, and with that blocking my vision, I can't see the face of the person standing in front of me, but my eyes find a glistening silver charm bracelet dangling off a slender, pale wrist and it's all too familiar.
Because it's not just anyone standing there.
It's not just my crazy neighbor Mrs. Harris from downstairs, hammering on my door and complaining that I'm making too much noise, nor is it my superintendent, coming to complain at me for Mrs. Harris (that happens a lot) or coming to complain about the milk carton that I technically know I shouldn't throw down the chute without a bin bag around it.
No.
Because instead... it's Rosé.
She's standing there, her thumbs running along the hem of her worn out college sweatshirt and her tired, brown eyes staring at me for the first time in too long.
She's standing there, the points of her feet turning in, something I recognize to be nervous, her brow furrowed in hesitancy and her lips parted as she stares at me, seeming so damn small with pinched shoulders.
And somehow—some-fucking-how—she manages to take my breath away at the same time I feel myself breathe easy for the first time in twelve fucking months, just because she's here, just because she's looking at me.
But I can't do anything but stare.
So I do just that.