8. This Is How I Won't Let You Go, Again
The quiet follows me everywhere now. Everything else is too loud.
I drift through life like a passing breeze, coming and going but never really there. It just hurts to live. It tires me to keep my eyes open, to breathe, to speak. Even when I am in a crowd, my voice barely scrapes the surface, and all I long for is to be alone.
Which is why I am the happiest at closing time.
I am now always rostered to close to porridge shop, at my own insistence. We hardly get any customers past 8.30 anyway, and so I shoo the Master and Jandi out of the shop, and allow myself some peace and quiet. I appreciate their concern for me, but sometimes it does get quite suffocating. I just want to be alone, to be quiet.
This is the only time that I am at ease being alone, because I am busy, and I am distracted. It does a lot for my sanity.
The night was like any other, filled with routinely menial tasks. After cleaning the counters and washing up the dirty dishes, I finally start on my favourite chore. As I commence mopping up the kitchen floor, I hear the 'ding-ding' of the bell hanging over the doors, informing me of an unwelcome guest.
Sigh. Can't anyone get some peace around here?
Reluctant as I am to use my voice, I still have to turn this person away. I continue mopping. "Sorry, we're closed," I say, loud enough for the person to hear.
Silence.
Doesn't this person take a hint? I look up from my mopping, my back to the opening of the eating area. "We're closed," I say again, my voice slightly firmer. "Please come back tomorrow."
Silence. Then footsteps. I still don't turn around.
I close my eyes and begin a countdown. This person should leave by the sixth count.
One. Two. Thr-
"Ga Eul."
Silence, you are too loud. Stop talking. Four. Five. Si-
"Ga Eul."
Go away. Go away. Seven. Eig-
"Ga Eul."
It can't be. It can't be. Nine. Te-
My countdown is interrupted when I feel myself roughly grabbed by the arm and yanked from my spot. In shock, I lose hold of the mop in my hand, and the heavy wooden handle hits a metal table, before falling to the floor with a loud 'thunk'.
But it is forgotten. Soon, I am found enveloped in an embrace so foreign, so familiar. Strong arms wrap around my limp shoulders, holding me in place against a heart that beats in double time. My nose is filled with the heady scent of musk, a mixture of torture, and of longing.
I don't struggle. I've stopped struggling too long ago.
The silence holds us together, and I allow myself to be held.
"Why did you push me away?" whispered a male voice, so tender and so soft, numbing the silence. The question bores into my ears like a drill, embedding itself deep within the folds and the curves of my feelings.
My insides begin to stir. But I will not be moved.
"Why did you push me away?" the voice continued, rising with each ending, "I was trying to reach for you, but you pushed me away. Why are you doing this, Ga Eul? Why?"
I close my eyes. My mouth remains sealed shut, but it shows signs of trembling.
"Do you know how much it hurts to have you do this to me? Do you know how much it hurts to be away from you?"
I feel him pull away, and my body aches from the loss of his warmth. But I still feel him in front of me. I instinctively fold my arms across my chest.
There is a momentary pause. My eyes are still closed. I hear the light sound of skin brushing against fabric, then the unfolding of paper. Then, he does something I'm not prepared for: he begins to read a letter to me, the same declaration of love and admiration which he'd sent to me months ago, and which I'd sent back with a scathing reply written behind it.
I have no choice but to listen as his letter comes alive before my very ears. It feels strange hearing the contents again, and the same feeling of uncertainty rises up within me, battling the emotions that try to reign supreme. He reads every point in a clear, confident voice, his expressive intonation akin to that of a stage actor's.
"…Forget?" his tone rises, as he reads the final point, clearing his throat, "I could never forget you, Ga Eul-yang. I never once have, or will. This is how I want to remember you, always: wide-eyed and wonderful, the sun in your smile, my strength forever."
I hear him fold the paper back again, and the next thing I know, I feel his hands on my shoulders. I jump a little at the touch. He holds me at a distance, his hands tightly gripping my upper arms, while my hands hang lifelessly by my sides. I imagine the marks he will leave on my arms when he lets me go.
"Ga Eul, look at me," I hear him say, trying to regain control of his voice.
Reddened streaks on porcelain, a daring invasion of boundaries…
"Look at me, please," his voice, less an order, now more a plead.
… where your touch is my kryptonite, and still haunts the skin of my memories.
He pauses, and I hear him sigh. That alone makes him sound much older than he is.
Wait, is he crying?
"Ga Eul," his voice drops to a whisper, "Please. Don't be this way."
My eyes flutter open and before me stands a less-than-perfect looking So Yi Jeong. Disheveled hair, dark eye circles and a six o'clock shadow, with tears now streaking his ashen skin. He looked terrible.
I gasp involuntarily. Did I do this to him?
He gently lifts my chin and looks me square in the eyes; his own filled with a melancholic determination. "I want you to know that I meant every word in that letter. I didn't write it to sugar coat anything, to pretend that the silence between us didn't exist, because I know it did, and I'm sorry. It will never make up for how I may have made you feel.
"But every word written was written from the heart, with you on my mind."
Yi Jeong stops talking but he holds my gaze, and for the first time since knowing him, I noticed the true colour of his eyes. I had always thought it was a deep brownish-black, but the fluorescent light reflected in his almond pools of vision revealed a clear hazel.
I didn't know which revelation stunned me more. But it certainly got me talking.
"You hurt me, Yi Jeong," I find myself saying, spilling word after word from my chapped lips, "Or maybe I hurt myself thinking that you hurt me because you were so quiet, so far away. I didn't know why. I didn't know what to do. All I want, all I've ever wanted, is to be someone that means something to you, not just another of your conquests…"
His hold on me tightens at the last word, and he pulls me closer to him, our torsos dangerously close but not touching, our mouths mere inches away from each other.
"You are not a conquest," he hisses, somewhat painfully, "When will you understand that! You are not a conquest, because conquests would never hurt this much. This is love. And I love you. I don't know what I can do to make you believe that I love you. That I have never stopped loving you, even though we're so far away. Even in our silence, you were always the closest to me. I've held you so close to my heart, that it was really painful to learn that you had let me go."
By this time, my already broken heart had fallen apart so much more. As much as I hate how his words, his emotions – he – has such an effect on me, I can't help but respond. I know this isn't just a show. I can feel it, I can feel him.
My once-limp hands make their way to Yi Jeong's face, for the first time since the last time. He releases his hold on me as my hands cup his face, feeling the rough stubble on my skin. My fingertips explore the curves of his chin, his nose, his sunken cheeks, tracing the tear tracks that now line his face.
As I do so, I find myself slowly becoming overwhelmed by the realization that this isn't a dream.
"Are you really here?" I whisper.
Yi Jeong closes his eyes, and nudges into my hand. "Yes. Yes, I am."
I'm almost too scared to ask the next question. "Do… do you still love me?"
He opens his eyes, and traces a finger over my lips. "Yes," he says earnestly, "Yes, I do."
I look up to the ceiling, and take a deep breath before I ask my final question. My voice trembles with emotion. "C-can I still… love… you?"
He pulls me closer to him, and caresses my cheek gently. "You never have to ask me that question, Ga Eul-yang. I want you to love me. I don't want anything else from you. I just want you to be who you've always been to me. You."
A tear spills over the edge of my eye, down the back of his hand.
"But… we can't ever go back to the way things were," I whisper, somewhat urgently, "We've strayed too far away."
Yi Jeong smiles, a faint smile, for the first time since he re-entered my life. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't want us to go back to the way things were… I want us to start again, to start anew. I want us to have a new beginning, and if you allow me, we can start right now."
I don't even stop to think. I want to feel him near me. I just want to feel him. I just want him.
I reach out and hug him. He wraps his arms around me a second time, and I feel his hand gently stroking my hair. How comforting his touch is. I hear his heartbeat against my ear again, but this time, it beats in time with mine, even and calm.
"Please, don't let me go," I whisper.
He kisses me tenderly on the forehead. "I will never."
And he holds me, as my tears begin to fall afresh.
...
How safe it is to feel safe.
- City and Colour, Day Old Hate
