What forever feels like -- 6
What forever feels like; Jinki/Minho; G
note: Ugh. I hate this. This chapter doesn't make sense. >__> aldkfjaghaeh;agk;a I want the feeling of forever back T 3T
prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six
Chapter six
Sometimes goodbyes don't come from the lips.
Sometimes they just happen.
......
I don't remember the last time he and I were in touch.
Which day of which month of which year? Which second of which minute of which hour? Was it before or after I graduated high school and started running away? Where was I? What was I doing? What did we talk about? I cannot tell you a single detail even if my life depended on it.
I don't remember between the two of us, who it was that neglected to reply to the last letter, who it was that forgot to make the next phone call. I don't remember if there had been a reason to put an end to it. Or even just some sort of deliberateness that the act of putting an end to it would have required.
Although since I can't say one way or the other, I suppose I could simply borrow the excuse that seems to work for everybody else-
We grew up and life got in the way.
I don't like the idea of it.
But at the very least, it isn't entirely false.
I don't know how I grew out of each and every habit, because he had been a part of them all. I don't know why I was able to get used to not hearing from him, not knowing every detail of his life as if I were there living it out alongside him. I don't know what I used to fill the gaping hole that he left behind. I might have worked a lot harder at school. I probably helped out more around the house. I did get a part-time job. And I sort of made other friends. Not that good report cards and teachers' praises and chores and work and other people could ever add up to what he was.
So if they couldn't, how did I cope?
I don't know.
I don't remember.
...To think that at one point in my life I'd been so utterly convinced that such a thing would be impossible!
And yet somehow, I lived on. Somehow I made it through the best and brightest years of my life.
Without him.
I guess that's how a lot of things work.
You don't see a reason to stop. You don't see how it could possibly ever end.
...and then it just does.
That it-whatever it was-was actually capable of coming to an end doesn't necessarily make any more sense after the fact. But there is a difference. Because the change has already happened.
And there isn't much that we can do about something that has already happened.
We just live with it.
......
However, it isn't to say that I forgot the Choi Minho of my childhood.
He, who had once upon a time been mine.
He, who had never actually been mine.
What exactly did his existence mean to me?
To this day, I still cannot put it into words. To this day, even I don't fully understand it myself. All I know is that long before I came to comprehend this bizarre thing called love, Choi Minho had already been inerasably carved into my bones.
It was purer than love, more profound than love. Something like that.
Although to be honest I don't know what that means.
I only say it because somehow it sounds right.
But amid all these I-don't-knows, one thing is for certain.
It has become a mark so deeply etched into my being that even time has no hope of smoothing it out.
Him,
The past that only the two of us shared,
The feeling of forever that only the two of us knew-
They are my very flesh.
My blood.
My soul.
Inseparable from my existence.
Impossible to eradicate.
They are ghosts that have chosen to haunt the chambers of my heart.
Ghosts that I cannot exorcise.
Lest I cease to be who I am.
Or so I thought for a long, long time.
You know, I have never sincerely subscribed to any holiday. New Year's is no exception. I don't believe in the idea of a new year. Years aren't new. Once the clock hits 00:00 like it does every single day, we are still who we are, weaknesses and problems and all. Nothing changes. Nothing becomes easier. December thirty-first and January first are hardly any different, at least no more different than any other pair of consecutive days.
But New Year's Eve this time around is special.
Because something happens.
......
seven
note: Ugh. I hate this. This chapter doesn't make sense. >__> aldkfjaghaeh;agk;a I want the feeling of forever back T 3T
prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six
Chapter six
Sometimes goodbyes don't come from the lips.
Sometimes they just happen.
......
I don't remember the last time he and I were in touch.
Which day of which month of which year? Which second of which minute of which hour? Was it before or after I graduated high school and started running away? Where was I? What was I doing? What did we talk about? I cannot tell you a single detail even if my life depended on it.
I don't remember between the two of us, who it was that neglected to reply to the last letter, who it was that forgot to make the next phone call. I don't remember if there had been a reason to put an end to it. Or even just some sort of deliberateness that the act of putting an end to it would have required.
Although since I can't say one way or the other, I suppose I could simply borrow the excuse that seems to work for everybody else-
We grew up and life got in the way.
I don't like the idea of it.
But at the very least, it isn't entirely false.
I don't know how I grew out of each and every habit, because he had been a part of them all. I don't know why I was able to get used to not hearing from him, not knowing every detail of his life as if I were there living it out alongside him. I don't know what I used to fill the gaping hole that he left behind. I might have worked a lot harder at school. I probably helped out more around the house. I did get a part-time job. And I sort of made other friends. Not that good report cards and teachers' praises and chores and work and other people could ever add up to what he was.
So if they couldn't, how did I cope?
I don't know.
I don't remember.
...To think that at one point in my life I'd been so utterly convinced that such a thing would be impossible!
And yet somehow, I lived on. Somehow I made it through the best and brightest years of my life.
Without him.
I guess that's how a lot of things work.
You don't see a reason to stop. You don't see how it could possibly ever end.
...and then it just does.
That it-whatever it was-was actually capable of coming to an end doesn't necessarily make any more sense after the fact. But there is a difference. Because the change has already happened.
And there isn't much that we can do about something that has already happened.
We just live with it.
......
However, it isn't to say that I forgot the Choi Minho of my childhood.
He, who had once upon a time been mine.
He, who had never actually been mine.
What exactly did his existence mean to me?
To this day, I still cannot put it into words. To this day, even I don't fully understand it myself. All I know is that long before I came to comprehend this bizarre thing called love, Choi Minho had already been inerasably carved into my bones.
It was purer than love, more profound than love. Something like that.
Although to be honest I don't know what that means.
I only say it because somehow it sounds right.
But amid all these I-don't-knows, one thing is for certain.
It has become a mark so deeply etched into my being that even time has no hope of smoothing it out.
Him,
The past that only the two of us shared,
The feeling of forever that only the two of us knew-
They are my very flesh.
My blood.
My soul.
Inseparable from my existence.
Impossible to eradicate.
They are ghosts that have chosen to haunt the chambers of my heart.
Ghosts that I cannot exorcise.
Lest I cease to be who I am.
Or so I thought for a long, long time.
You know, I have never sincerely subscribed to any holiday. New Year's is no exception. I don't believe in the idea of a new year. Years aren't new. Once the clock hits 00:00 like it does every single day, we are still who we are, weaknesses and problems and all. Nothing changes. Nothing becomes easier. December thirty-first and January first are hardly any different, at least no more different than any other pair of consecutive days.
But New Year's Eve this time around is special.
Because something happens.
......
seven