je suis dĂŠsolĂŠ :: jiyong & cl
He was never the best with them. He always found himself going a little out of his way to search for forgiveness when he wronged someone. It stung a bit to think that he wronged his best friend by doing what he did, but his actions were sudden, they were unjustified, and his thoughts were completely irrational. But even still, he wished that she didnât react the way she did. If he continued thinking on it, he still had no idea how he would have wanted her to react. He wasnât entirely sure if he wanted the kiss to even happen at all. He did in the moment â that was for sure. He remembered it clearly and he couldnât push what he felt in that moment aside even if he wanted to. But afterward, what she told him; the truth the he pieced together⌠it was obviously something she didnât want him to know.
To redeem himself, a little while later (about a week and a half from the time that he kissed her), he decided to be bold and ask her to sit and talk with him. They could have some food, relax, and attempt to work out whatever the hell happened that night. In short, he thought that her company that night was fun. They teased each other practically the whole time, and generally enjoyed each otherâs presence. He remembered it clearly, but it seemed like she forgot everything else that happened that night before he pressed his lips to hers.
The interaction was awkward, most definitely. He knew that she wasnât going to play it easy, as she never seemed like the type. With a roll of her eyes and an almost sarcastic tone to her voice, she gave him a maybe. If it was all he could get, heâd take it. He had no right to complain this time around, and he knew that. Wow, it sucked to be wrong.
Flowers were one of his favorite go-toâs. He remembered when he was a child, his mother used to tell him that girls loved flowers. They symbolized many different things, and she told him about how his father used to bring her flowers all the time⌠until she broke down in tears and heâd have to attempt to bring her back up from her low. In his backyard, there were always dandelions â little did he know that they were a nuisance rather than a flower, so picking them was actually doing his mother a favor. He would bring them to her and she would smile again; though her eyes would never match the mood she tried to portray.
The only person he knew that kept flowers around was Lee Hayi. She was a nice girl; very cute and sweet. She was shy, but assertive when it came to patching up the silly wound on his hand. It wasnât difficult at all to ask her for some flowers, and he said that he would make it up to her â whether she really needed him to or not. How? Heâd have to think a bit more on that, but for now he was in the clear until they got back on the regular circus schedule. So, in a small bundle, he had flowers, which were laid out on the âdiningâ table in his cottage so he wouldnât ruin them. He was dressed up as well â it wasnât a lot different from his normal assortment of clothes. Now that his hair was pink, from the faded red dye, he learned that wearing colorful items made him look like a clown. A little embarrassing when he first figured it out, but it taught him that black was the best bet. It was easy to keep up with, considering how many articles of black clothing he already owned.
It wasnât that summer-y of a choice, only as he fiddled into it did he realize it could be too hot for such an outfit. It was cool that day, so he didn't bother to change out of it. With all his windows open as they usually were, he figured heâd be alright. It was an old shirt, but it still fit him the same way it did when he bought it â he didnât really grow much. With a collection of jewelry and jeans to match, he was ready for the possibility of her showing up. Although that was what she told him, he figured that she would. He told her five oâclock, but it was up to her to finally make the decision of whether it happened or not. It was nearly dinner time, but what was the point of cooking if he wasnât even sure sheâd be there? He frowned. He was so sure that sheâd come, but he knew he shouldnât expect anything. It got him in trouble when he did; when would he learn?
Jiyong went to his kitchen sink, flicking the appliance on and drenching his hands in the water. He stayed there for a few minutes, watching as the water found its way through all the jewelry to coat his skin. After he was satisfied, he turned the water off and swiped the flowers off the table. Now, it was time to wait. Not bothering to dry his hands, he slumped onto the couch, laying the flowers down on his lap. He stared forward at nothing, biting down on his lip in thought.
Minutes passed, and he still sat there â waiting. A half hour passed, which stretched to one hour, and as time kept droning on, Jiyong stayed put, drowsiness fighting his will to stay awake. The couch was suddenly very comfortable, and as the clock hit the seven oâclock mark, he figured that he was wrong and she wasnât going to show at all. But what if she did? His thoughts were beginning to become too much for him â he didnât know whether to obey his own wishes or just say âfuck itâ and go to sleep early in his room. All of this hurt enough; he didnât want to stay awake anymore tonight. He gritted his teeth, and he laid his chin down on his hand, while his elbow rested on the arm of the couch. Jiyong barely even noticed that his eyes closed eventually, and soon his body turned limp, slumping over slightly as his face relaxed. His breathing slowed, as well as his heartbeat.
Sleep â it was always free of stress and full of dreams. Maybe that was why it was so appealing.
