âOh, no?â Hanaâs brows raised in response to his confession, her head nodding in acknowledgment. She contemplated asking why he hadnât been good, but ultimately decided against it - that wasnât any of her business, and she wasnât entirely interested in knowing. Instead, she replied with what she felt was appropriate: a common expression that went along the lines of Iâm sorry to hear that. Following the flippant remark, Hana shifted in her seat, turning to check the taxiâs progress. But just as before, the rain made it difficult to see anything outside, other than blurred scenery they happened to pass by and both of their reflections faintly outlined against the glass. She hadnât a clue where they were.
You havenât changed, have you? The question caused her to look over at him again, and she gave an insouciant shrug, oblivious to the meaning behind it. âUnless you count my hair, no. Not really. But it doesnât look like youâve changed much yourself.â She countered, her smile still intact, gaze dropping to his now covered hands. She couldnât help but wonder if the tattoo heâd gotten for her was still there, or if heâd opted to remove it when she took off to another part of South Korea. Was he still living in the same place or had he moved out? But more importantly, was he crying or had water collected next to his eye? She hadnât noticed at first, but the moment she looked up at him, she could have sworn she saw a tear glistening in the corner of his eye. His awkward mannerisms only furthered her suspicion.
Without so much as a second thought, Hana inched closer, studying his features. âAre you.. crying?â She brazenly questioned, prompting the cab driver to peek into the rear-view mirror curiously. The smile on her face had finally fallen, and her porcelain face contorted into the utmost confusion. She didnât know what the tears were for, or if heâd been teary-eyed before entering the car â and maybe she hadnât noticed â but again, she wanted to refrain from asking. âDo you want a tissue?â Her hands reached for her duffel bag before he could even give her an answer, but she quickly paused, looking him over again. Thinking it over, he didnât need tissue. What he needed was a towel. He was soaked.
âHere.â She breathed out, pulling out a hastily folded mini towel from the bag and handing it to him. âYou can keep it.â Setting the bag back down, Hana ran her manicured fingers through her long locks of blonde hair, completely unaware of the glass vial that had slipped out of her bag and onto the floor. Inside was the fine powdery substance she was all too familiar with. Only that wasnât the only illegal drug in her bag. Underneath all of the clothes and accessories were a variety of narcotics to choose from - only they werenât hers. Or, they originally werenât. She was supposed to be dropping them off for someone, but as expected, her innocent looks were misleading. Theyâd been too trusting of her.
He had every right not to answer her. Especially considering the fact that he was so close to being shoved over the edge. There were so many questions he had, so many answers left up in the air. He bit down on his bottom lip, eyes beginning to burn as he continuously stared out of the window. Jiho felt like such a little bitch, crying over some shit that happened years ago. But what was he supposed to do? She flipped his whole life upside down. To make matters worse he was probably only a roof over her head and some money in her hands. It was easy for her to play the part it seemed. She felt so foreign, like this wasnât the girl he had fallen in love with. She was practically a stranger now. But Jiho was certain that it had always been this way and he was just too blind to see.Â
âSometimes it feels like time changes things but shit always stays the same.â Thatâs what he was known for, wasnât it? Good olâ Chico. Never changing, always the realest, no amount of money could make him a fake and so on and on. Speaking in riddles was the only way he could keep his sanity. As long as he didnât reveal too much heâd be fine. At this point the last thing he wanted her to know was just how badly she tore him up. He attempted to dab at his eyes smoothly, moving to press his hand against his cheeks and forehead. Maybe if he pretended that he was wiping water off of his face heâd be fine...
He cleared his throat, posture going rigid as she leaned towards him. Jiho cleared his throat in an attempt to steady his voice, head shaking in response, only his action faltered making it seem hesitant. âMind your space,â was the only thing he could say, inching even closer to the cab door. For a split second he considered opening the damn door and rolling out, hopefully getting hit by the next car to speed by them. Maybe the pain in his chest would finally subside. Jiho shook his head again, only this time he wasnât sure if he had just imagined it because she was holding something out to him anyways. âI donât want anything from you.â It was a simple comment, spoken clearly and sternly.Â
His eyes had fallen to the small vial that rolled around on the cab floor, a chuckle slipping past his lips before he could silence it. Using all the courage his body could muster he turned his head to look at her, a smirk taking over his plump lips. âFigures...â
