wanderl_st

some of her favorite things: ver. 10:00pm / dry roses on the wall. petals on the floor. candles melting and moonlight streaming in through the windows. blue and cold and twice as fluorescent as the lamp in the corner.  

“can i ask you something?”

some of her favorite things and parker in the middle of it all. a rerun of january and april and june.

“did you even…” she doesn’t wait. “did you even sleep over there?” what about timezones? she doesn’t ask.

she sits at the edge of her seat. legs crossed at the ankles. tousled locks unbrushed and tossed over her shoulder. mouth twisting in vines, unraveling at the roots. tongue like the ocean as it pushes and pulls at her words. “you were drunk the whole time, weren’t you.” finally, she laughs. “that’s the only explanation.”

( for lost calls, lost connections. misplaced messages and the ocean in between them. )

“that’s good, ‘park. you look okay.” here’s to changing seasons and the smile she somehow finds again. “you’re okay.”

memories to cherish: ver. 10:30pm / city bustle settled outside an open window. lights glowing softly, the breeze sighing against his skin and his heartbeat keeping steady. doubt, for the first time, an afterthought.

he smiles wordlessly before reaching over and tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear. “sorry, it was bothering me.” 

her favorite song plays softly in the background and blends with the mix of late-night traffic; humming engines and guitar make up for their tired eyes and restless thoughts. they share a quiet chuckle together before that, too, fades. 

“i don’t sleep- you know that, hyeri- but i’m okay.” his head ducks down behind his hands. “and i don’t drink as much. hangovers hit harder over the years, and it’s actually nice to enjoy my night without... y’know. blacking out.” he takes his head out of his hands and peeks over at her, and in that moment, he relays an overwhelming sense of relief. “it’s just so fucking good to see you again.” 

his voice hangs briefly in the air, sweet and subdued. it carries an unresolved solace that he’s tucked away beneath his chest for a long time. his gaze remains gentle yet fixed and tells her everything that she needs to know:

he’s sitting in front of her, midnight looming around the corner, candles lighting the darkest parts of her living room like she has for him.

you really can’t tell if that heartbeat hiding behind that persistent resilience is a sign; it’s telling you to live, park’, but all you want to do is fade away.

/ circa 2016

he floats through the evening drinking booze and piling the burnt-out ends of his cigarettes on a crumpled napkin. she watches him from the other side, hands folded on top of the kitchen table. she’s learned to keep her stares vacant, meaningless, anything other than longing, because he’ll drink that shit up and she’ll only feel emptier.

parker finishes the rest of his beer and starts on another.

“don’t you think you’ve drank enough? it’s only nine-thirty.”

“more of a reason to drink, then,” he mutters, lips already touching the rim of the bottle.

they’ve always had this problem. she wears her heart on her sleeve and he hides his so deep inside himself that he’s not even sure he has one.

“i hate you,” hyeri breathes out quietly.

“you don’t.”

the room feels robbed of air because he’s holding his breath, waiting for an indignant sigh or a quiet scuffle against the floor as she readjusts her weight on the chair. but nothing of that sort comes, and all he gets his silence breathing down the back of his neck.

he opens his mouth to be the bigger man, to bandage the bruises with an i’m sorry, i love you too much to be doing this; instead, apologies remain but a sliver of guilt, another pill he’ll have to swallow back down.

“...i’m going out to buy more cigarettes.”

clammy palms grip against the table as he pushes himself up and makes his way to the door. he could feel the exasperation and venom in hyeri’s eyes burning through him, but he exits her apartment with such resilience that you’d think she was only a one-night stand.