A/N: I know I said I wouldn't be doing much writing during exam season, but I just couldn't resist this sudden inspiration I got for a short story. It'll just be, at most, seven chapters. I've also tried a different sort of style, so I hope you'll enjoy it!
I think the perfect song for this is Avril Lavgine's "When You're Gone"

Snippet 1

*Poster credits goes to superjihyeee!

Slip.

Clang.

“What are you talking about?” I ask while placing my warm cup of tea onto the counter. 

“It’s over,” Raewon declares rather loudly with his voice echoing throughout the apartment.

Letting out a sigh, I utter, “Didn’t I say I needed some time to think?”

He gets up from his favourite spot, the kitchen chair leaning against the wall. I know what he wants to do. He is always like this whenever we fight, except this time, I’m not sure if we’re even arguing. This time, he grabs for his jacket lying on the old, leather couch we bought together. He’s silent, too silent, but I know what he’s thinking. I know what he wants to say: “I’m tired of being with you. I’m tired of giving you time to think, to act like nothing has happened, to apologize after being too harsh with your words . . .”

And this is why I can’t fall for you.

I’m watching Raewon slipping into his sneakers that don’t even match his sleek, grey suit. He can never pair anything properly without my help. That’s what made him different though. The part that I still find cute about him . . .

I can’t help, but let out a chuckle, and immediately, he turns to glare at me. His cheeks don’t redden like before, and instead, he scoffs at me. He takes a step forward, and his foot almost glides over a sheet of paper, or no, a letter. Bending over, he tosses the piece towards me. 

Slam.

The door has closed, and I’m alone again.

You see? That’s the problem with you.

What do you mean?

You’re never affectionate. Your words don’t . . . make me feel much.

So, you’re saying that what I say is meaningless?

The TV has an obnoxious sound to it. I hear that young, cheerful woman announce, “It’s a sunny day in Seoul today with highs reaching 30 degrees, and lows—“

This time, I chuckle aloud.

Lies.

It’s clearly raining outside.
---

Splash.

I’m not afraid to step into puddles of mucky water. I thank my rain boots for protecting me as I walk to the subway station. Actually, I thank myself for being so prepared. I’m wearing everything associated with raingear, and even carrying an umbrella or what he’d say . . .

You’re being anal.

I shrug my shoulders, and enter the doors of the subway train. There are two high school students sitting in front of me. The thought of high school makes me grimace, but my hand has already gripped the pole, and a crowd has pushed me closer to the two.

“Sometimes, I don’t even get why I’m friends with you,” the curly-haired, petite female groans, “and seriously, what are you going to do about your ex?”

 “I’m not sure,” the boy with a grey beanie utters. “She said she wanted to talk to me, and I said okay. We’re meeting up later tonight to chat.”

She cross her arms, huffing, “I don’t get why you’re even talking to her! She cheated on you, and the last time you guys talked, she was . . . sorry for saying this, but she was such a bitch! I mean, who says if you get more experienced, you’ll see more of me?”

His dreary, fatigued eyes suddenly became sharp, and defensive. I am sure he would have punched her if she were a guy. Luckily, he clenches his fists before standing up to leave. Coincidentally, I hear my stop calling, so I follow the two. 

The girl pushes past me, hollering, “Changan! Wait! Where are you going? Our stop isn’t even—“

Turning around, he shoots a softened glare at her. “J-j-just don’t talk right now,” he pleads before quickening his pace.

She’s standing at the platform watching him leave. I know how she feels, and what she’s thinking. I used to feel that way too.

Why won’t you talk about it? Why is it that whenever we talk about her, we always end up fighting? Why is it that I have to always apologize? Why do you care about her so much? What about me? I’m your friend right? I’ve known you longer right?

I walk past her, and down the stairs I go. I see that boy ahead of me. I want to tap on his shoulder, and tell him that he’ll regret it. He’ll regret leaving that girl behind because she’s the one that actually cares about him. When I see his hands in his pockets, strutting too casually, though, I don’t do anything else but walk. He’ll never understand nor will he ever care. He’d be perfectly fine without her.

There’s that song playing from my cell phone. The noise causes him to shift his direction towards me. I don’t dare give another look at him and instead, answer my call, “Hello?”

“Jikyung, you’re coming home for dinner right?” my older sister, Jina, asks. “Mom is asking about it, and she wants you to invite Raewon over as well. She says she hasn’t seen him in ages.”

“Raewon and I broke up,” I tell her too easily.

“What? But he even proposed to you three months ago!”

“It’s complicated.”

“You didn’t say yes, yet?”

“About that—“

“What are you even waiting for? He’s fine for you!” Jina shouts. “Don’t tell me you’re still waiting for him?”

“No, I’m not,” I chuckle in between my own words. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Then, why can’t you say yes to him? You do love him, right?” Jina questions rather sternly.

“It’s not always about love, Jina,” I explain. “There are other factors too, like having enough money, having children, still working while being a mom, etc.”

“I think it’s about love, Jikyung,” Jina argues so loudly that I feel my eardrums hurting. “You’re still in love with that bastard or you haven’t fallen in love again!”

I’m almost at the top of the subway entrance, so I inform her, “I’m about to go to work now. I’ll talk to you later.”

You’re doing it again. 

What? Doing what? 

Getting mad, and then not talking to me for days.

I feel a droplet of rain touch my cheeks, and then laugh at myself. Silly for forgetting that it’s still raining. I let a few more drops graze my face; there are people rushing to dodge the rain. I feel pressured to walk a bit faster, but then again, my footsteps have always been inches ahead of others. Wearing my hood and opening my umbrella, I head in the direction of work.

I know I’ll be there earlier than most, yet I still hurry. I know what will come. The looks of the employees’ faces. The witch is here. She looks like she’s in a bad mood. Do you think she’s PMS-ing? No, she’s always on her period. No wonder she’s still not married. I mean, can you imagine the guy that’d marry her? He must be in love with her bank account, or maybe, he got tricked by her appearance.

“Ah, greetings, Ms. Kim,” the security guard lifts his cap and proclaims. “There’s a parcel for you here.”

“You can just give it to my secretary, Sulli,” I answer steadily, proceeding along my way to the elevators.
He grabs me by the arm to say, “But the man who came by said if you didn’t get it personally, you’d toss it on your table and forget about it until it’s too late.”

“W-w-wait.” I immediately stop at my heel. A man? How’d he know what I’d do? It can’t be Raewon. Raewon just broke up with me. My sister is not a man either.  Then, who else could know me so well? It can’t be . . . him? “Wh-what did this man look like?” I question him. 

“He was tall,” the security guard replies. “He was also about your age or maybe a few years older than you? He seemed to be the popular sort among ladies.”

“Did he . . . have three dimples? One towards the edge of his mouth? The other around his chin? And one beside—“

“I think you’re asking for the wrong person, Jikyung.”

My head instinctively shifts towards that voice, and I gasp too quickly. He’s smirking at me, just like we had first met. Now, he is walking towards me. There’s something, no, a nicely, wrapped present in his hand. I’m not sure what he’s doing. It’s not even my birthday. Why is he even here? This is wrong. This is so wrong.
“Wh-wh-what are you—“

“I’m back, Jikyung,” he interrupts just like he has always liked to do. “I’m back for good.”

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