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Breaking (One of Five)
Breaking
The rain slid off of his umbrella like tears, plip-plop around his feet, splashing back up onto his pants as he ran through puddles. He had to hurry; he was almost late for a very important appointment.
He passed innumerable faces on the streets, grey, blurry, covered up by gloomy atmosphere. None of them were all that important to him at the moment. They streets gave way beneath his steps, propelling him faster towards his destination; then, finally, he turned a corner and there she was, bobbing into view. He grinned without thinking and slowed down. Panting heavily, he laughed a little and looked up at her. Then his smile faded somewhat.
She didn’t seem cheerful at all; she wasn’t smiling, her feet were pressed tight together, and the delicate hands that held her umbrella were clenched so tightly around the handle that her knuckles were ghost-white. He frowned a little when he realized her umbrella, far from being the polka-dot print he’d expected, was grey.
Before he could say anything, before his lips even moved to make a sound, she stepped forward once and, looking at a puddle, said softly,
“I want to break up.”
-------------------------------
“Can you believe that?” he laughed drunkenly, leaning back against the couch and taking another swig from a blue-green glass bottle with a fancy Italian name on the label. “She wants to break up. She wanted to.”
“Sounds rough, Kihoon.”
“I know, eh?” Kihoon pressed the phone closer to his ear, his laugh turning into a snarl. “I guess I should just be glad that she didn’t do it over the phone or with email or something. Those guys are really suckers, y’know, when their girlfriends text them saying they don’t want them anymore.”
He laughed again, but it was hollow this time. A sober sort of laugh.
“Well, it’s not like it’s their fault…” The voice on the other end of the phone paused for a moment. “…Okay, sometimes it is. But why would she break up with you? What happened?”
“Geez, Youngwoon, I don’t know,” he groaned, tilting his head back and to the side. “I can’t think of a single time when we were really unhappy. Like, yeah, we fought, but…”
Youngwoon said something else, but he wasn’t really listening. He sighed softly.
“Kihoon,” she’d said, “Kihoon, did you go out again last night? You have a hangover, don’t you?!”
He’d mumbled unintelligibly and attempted to go back to sleep. She ripped the blankets off of him, frowning, and put her hands on her hips.
“You jerk!” she’d yelled at him. “You promised me we’d go out today! It’s our hundredth day and you decide to be hung over?! What kind of boyfriend are you?!”
“…anyways, man, there’s always another girl out there. Y’know?”
“I don’t want another girl,” he insisted. “I want her.” She’s everything to me, he wanted to say, but it would sound cheesy. He held it in.
“So go get her back,” replied Youngwoon bluntly.
“It’s not - it’s not that simple.” He sighed again, frustrated. “Even if I want her, she doesn’t want me, she’ll be unhappy if she’s with me now.” All I want is for her to be happy.
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Youngwoon.”
“Hey, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
He laughed to himself, bitter-sounding and quiet. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay… call me whenever, eh? I’m here for you.”
You’re here for me, but you can’t possibly feel how I feel.
“Okay. Thanks, Youngwoon. Bye.”
He hung up and dropped the phone, sighing again. He buried his face into a cushion and let out a cry somewhere between anger and despair. When he looked up, he saw droplets of water splash continuously against the window. It was still raining. He wondered if her feet were getting wet.
“It’s going to rain tomorrow!” She’d made a big deal of it then, acting overdramatic and tossing herself onto his lap. He’d laughed a bit.
“Then why don’t we buy umbrellas today?”
She’d brightened instantly and given him a quick kiss. “You’re so smart, Kihoon!”
They went out to the street-vendor, bought candy and a calendar, and then pored over the bright array of umbrellas with utmost concentration - that is, when he didn’t start tickling her just to make her laugh and swat at him playfully.
“I like this one!” she’d said at last, picking up one that was bright red with white polka-dots. He was almost going to ask for something more manly, but the hope in her expression was too much for him. He fished out some change and handed it to the vendor, who in turn winked slyly at him. He was still blushing when they got back to her place.
He stood at the window, leaning against it, the cool glass pressing into his forehead. The bottle lay forgotten on the floor behind him. It was late now; he didn’t know the time exactly, but it was too dark to make out the numbers on the clock. Outside, it was still raining, the wind blowing broken tree branches and forgotten newspapers around the streets. The lights of Seoul blocked out any starlight he could have seen, had he been back at his parent’s place in the country.
He raised the phone to his ear, pressed a button, listened to it ring and ring and ring. He sighed. Then there was a sound as the person on the other end picked up, and he felt his heart stop.
“Yobusaeyo?”
(Hello?)
Her voice. For some reason, his lips refused to move. It was as though they were frozen together.
“…Kihoon?”
He couldn’t say anything. Why did he do this? This was stupid. He was stupid. He was in love with someone who didn’t love him.
“Kihoon, I’m hanging up now.”
The line went dead. He felt rain trickle down his cheeks and he closed his eyes, heaving with silent sobs, his breath hitching. She was gone. She wasn’t his. No, wait, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t hers.
He cried silently, and he remembered.
Nights of barely-there whispers ghosting across his skin as they lie together in the dark, between the sheets, warm, comfortable, content.
Calling his parents to say no, I’m really sorry, I just can’t make it to the reunion this year, and then hanging up and calling her to confirm their plans for the day.
Feeling his stomach rumble and knowing there was nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cupboards, and nothing in his wallet. Waiting for her to come over so he could give her the ring he’d bought for their anniversary.
Breaking up, breaking down, getting back together over nothing and everything all at once.
The sound of a ringtone filled the air once again.
Feeling lost, not knowing what to do when she wasn’t there, wondering whose fault this was. Blaming her. Blaming himself. Wondering. Why? Going crazy over it.
“Kihoon, why are you calling me?”
Throwing away his umbrella and swearing to never go out in the rain again.
“Are you drunk?”
Taking all of their pictures and ripping them up, throwing them away along with the ring and the umbrella.
“Kihoon, I wish you’d stop doing this, really, I just want -”
Loving her and hating her together.
His lips unfroze themselves.
Not knowing how to live.
“…I miss you.”
--------------------------------
He threw away the cake and the candles, too. In the morning the garbage collector asked why he suddenly had all this stuff to get rid of.
“Did you get dumped or somethin’?” he’d asked, laughing, as he heaved the bag into his truck.
Kihoon just went back inside to call someone else.
The rain slid off of his umbrella like tears, plip-plop around his feet, splashing back up onto his pants as he ran through puddles. He had to hurry; he was almost late for a very important appointment.
He passed innumerable faces on the streets, grey, blurry, covered up by gloomy atmosphere. None of them were all that important to him at the moment. They streets gave way beneath his steps, propelling him faster towards his destination; then, finally, he turned a corner and there she was, bobbing into view. He grinned without thinking and slowed down. Panting heavily, he laughed a little and looked up at her. Then his smile faded somewhat.
She didn’t seem cheerful at all; she wasn’t smiling, her feet were pressed tight together, and the delicate hands that held her umbrella were clenched so tightly around the handle that her knuckles were ghost-white. He frowned a little when he realized her umbrella, far from being the polka-dot print he’d expected, was grey.
Before he could say anything, before his lips even moved to make a sound, she stepped forward once and, looking at a puddle, said softly,
“I want to break up.”
-------------------------------
“Can you believe that?” he laughed drunkenly, leaning back against the couch and taking another swig from a blue-green glass bottle with a fancy Italian name on the label. “She wants to break up. She wanted to.”
“Sounds rough, Kihoon.”
“I know, eh?” Kihoon pressed the phone closer to his ear, his laugh turning into a snarl. “I guess I should just be glad that she didn’t do it over the phone or with email or something. Those guys are really suckers, y’know, when their girlfriends text them saying they don’t want them anymore.”
He laughed again, but it was hollow this time. A sober sort of laugh.
“Well, it’s not like it’s their fault…” The voice on the other end of the phone paused for a moment. “…Okay, sometimes it is. But why would she break up with you? What happened?”
“Geez, Youngwoon, I don’t know,” he groaned, tilting his head back and to the side. “I can’t think of a single time when we were really unhappy. Like, yeah, we fought, but…”
Youngwoon said something else, but he wasn’t really listening. He sighed softly.
“Kihoon,” she’d said, “Kihoon, did you go out again last night? You have a hangover, don’t you?!”
He’d mumbled unintelligibly and attempted to go back to sleep. She ripped the blankets off of him, frowning, and put her hands on her hips.
“You jerk!” she’d yelled at him. “You promised me we’d go out today! It’s our hundredth day and you decide to be hung over?! What kind of boyfriend are you?!”
“…anyways, man, there’s always another girl out there. Y’know?”
“I don’t want another girl,” he insisted. “I want her.” She’s everything to me, he wanted to say, but it would sound cheesy. He held it in.
“So go get her back,” replied Youngwoon bluntly.
“It’s not - it’s not that simple.” He sighed again, frustrated. “Even if I want her, she doesn’t want me, she’ll be unhappy if she’s with me now.” All I want is for her to be happy.
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Youngwoon.”
“Hey, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
He laughed to himself, bitter-sounding and quiet. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“Okay… call me whenever, eh? I’m here for you.”
You’re here for me, but you can’t possibly feel how I feel.
“Okay. Thanks, Youngwoon. Bye.”
He hung up and dropped the phone, sighing again. He buried his face into a cushion and let out a cry somewhere between anger and despair. When he looked up, he saw droplets of water splash continuously against the window. It was still raining. He wondered if her feet were getting wet.
“It’s going to rain tomorrow!” She’d made a big deal of it then, acting overdramatic and tossing herself onto his lap. He’d laughed a bit.
“Then why don’t we buy umbrellas today?”
She’d brightened instantly and given him a quick kiss. “You’re so smart, Kihoon!”
They went out to the street-vendor, bought candy and a calendar, and then pored over the bright array of umbrellas with utmost concentration - that is, when he didn’t start tickling her just to make her laugh and swat at him playfully.
“I like this one!” she’d said at last, picking up one that was bright red with white polka-dots. He was almost going to ask for something more manly, but the hope in her expression was too much for him. He fished out some change and handed it to the vendor, who in turn winked slyly at him. He was still blushing when they got back to her place.
He stood at the window, leaning against it, the cool glass pressing into his forehead. The bottle lay forgotten on the floor behind him. It was late now; he didn’t know the time exactly, but it was too dark to make out the numbers on the clock. Outside, it was still raining, the wind blowing broken tree branches and forgotten newspapers around the streets. The lights of Seoul blocked out any starlight he could have seen, had he been back at his parent’s place in the country.
He raised the phone to his ear, pressed a button, listened to it ring and ring and ring. He sighed. Then there was a sound as the person on the other end picked up, and he felt his heart stop.
“Yobusaeyo?”
(Hello?)
Her voice. For some reason, his lips refused to move. It was as though they were frozen together.
“…Kihoon?”
He couldn’t say anything. Why did he do this? This was stupid. He was stupid. He was in love with someone who didn’t love him.
“Kihoon, I’m hanging up now.”
The line went dead. He felt rain trickle down his cheeks and he closed his eyes, heaving with silent sobs, his breath hitching. She was gone. She wasn’t his. No, wait, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t hers.
He cried silently, and he remembered.
Nights of barely-there whispers ghosting across his skin as they lie together in the dark, between the sheets, warm, comfortable, content.
Calling his parents to say no, I’m really sorry, I just can’t make it to the reunion this year, and then hanging up and calling her to confirm their plans for the day.
Feeling his stomach rumble and knowing there was nothing in the fridge, nothing in the cupboards, and nothing in his wallet. Waiting for her to come over so he could give her the ring he’d bought for their anniversary.
Breaking up, breaking down, getting back together over nothing and everything all at once.
The sound of a ringtone filled the air once again.
Feeling lost, not knowing what to do when she wasn’t there, wondering whose fault this was. Blaming her. Blaming himself. Wondering. Why? Going crazy over it.
“Kihoon, why are you calling me?”
Throwing away his umbrella and swearing to never go out in the rain again.
“Are you drunk?”
Taking all of their pictures and ripping them up, throwing them away along with the ring and the umbrella.
“Kihoon, I wish you’d stop doing this, really, I just want -”
Loving her and hating her together.
His lips unfroze themselves.
Not knowing how to live.
“…I miss you.”
--------------------------------
He threw away the cake and the candles, too. In the morning the garbage collector asked why he suddenly had all this stuff to get rid of.
“Did you get dumped or somethin’?” he’d asked, laughing, as he heaved the bag into his truck.
Kihoon just went back inside to call someone else.