Part 12

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow into Longtai's dimly lit room. He sat on the edge of his bed, the mattress slightly sagging beneath him. The walls were adorned with various photos, remnants of a creative soul struggling with the weight of his past. Shadows danced across the room, their movement mirroring the turmoil within him.

Longtai's mind replayed the earlier encounter with Ren like an unwelcome film loop. The words echoed in his head, sharp and mocking. "And who's this? You've got someone looking after you now? How cute." Each repetition stung like a fresh wound, anger bubbling beneath the surface. He hated how easily those words could penetrate the walls he had carefully built around himself.

He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor as he paced the room, his heart racing with conflicting emotions. He stopped at his bedside drawer, yanking it open with a force that startled him. Inside lay remnants of his struggle-medications, a few crumpled papers, and scattered drawings that told stories he was too scared to share. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the small bottle, pouring out two pills and washing them down with a swig of water. The bitterness of the pills lingered on his tongue, but he swallowed hard, hoping to wash away the turmoil that had settled in his chest.

Longtai closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he leaned against the wall, trying to steady himself. But the thoughts continued to swirl, relentless and suffocating.

He felt a surge of anger towards himself, mixed with confusion. Yok had been kind, supportive even, and Longtai found comfort in his presence. But that comfort also terrified him. With every shared smile, every moment of genuine connection, he felt the walls he had built around his heart begin to crumble.

"What if I'm lowering my guard again?" he pondered aloud, his voice barely above a whisper. The fear clawed at him, a familiar grip he had experienced time and time again. He felt like a prisoner to his own emotions, locked in a battle between wanting to let Yok in and fearing the inevitable pain of loss that always followed.

Longtai sank back onto the bed, running a hand through his hair as he stared blankly at the floor. Memories flooded his mind-faces of those he had let into his life before, only to watch them slip away when things became too difficult. He recalled the moments of laughter, the warmth of friendship, and then the cold reality of abandonment.

The walls he had erected felt like a fortress now, but each brick seemed to tremble at the thought of vulnerability. What if Yok sees his dark side?, The question hung heavily in the air, a specter haunting his thoughts. Longtai felt a chill run down his spine, an instinctual dread that clung to him. What if Yok, in all his kindness, glimpsed the scars beneath the surface-the pain, the insecurities, the darkness he fought so hard to keep hidden?

His breath quickened, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if to shield his heart from the impending threat of emotional exposure. He could feel the walls pressing in around him, the suffocating fear of rejection tightening its grip. A truth he had faced too many times before. Each time he allowed someone in, he risked being left alone, abandoned once again.

Longtai pressed his palms against his eyes, fighting back the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had worked so hard to keep his distance, to protect himself from the hurt that always followed. But now, with Yok, everything felt different. The connection they shared was raw and unfiltered, yet the fear of vulnerability loomed large.

"Maybe I should just push him away," he murmured, but deep down, he knew he didn't want that. He wanted to feel-he craved connection-but the fear of getting hurt was a shadow that loomed over him, darkening every thought.

With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, staring at the walls around him, the drawings that reflected his inner turmoil.

--

In the dim light of his room, Yok stood before a blank canvas, the smell of paint and turpentine heavy in the air. The space was a sanctuary for his creativity, but tonight it felt suffocating. He had set out to create something meaningful, a piece that reflected the whirlwind of emotions he was grappling with, but all he could produce were chaotic strokes and erratic lines. Each brushstroke was a testament to his frustration, and as he painted, the image began to take shape-but it wasn't the image he had envisioned.

With each failed attempt to capture his thoughts on canvas, his irritation grew. The vibrant colors he usually loved felt dull, and the once-inspiring blank canvas transformed into a battleground where his ideas clashed and fell apart. He stood there, lost in the turmoil of his mind, wondering how someone like Ren could have such a profound effect on him. The mocking words replayed endlessly, wrapping around his thoughts like a vice.

Yok took a step back, staring at the canvas as if willing it to reveal some hidden truth. Instead, it stared back blankly, taunting him. He had intended to draw something beautiful, something that captured the light he saw in Longtai's eyes when he was focused on his photography. But the more he thought about Longtai, the more frustrated he became. "Why can't I just focus?" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with irritation.

It was hard to ignore the memory of Longtai's expression earlier that day. Behind the lens, he looked so peaceful, lost in his art, yet there was something deeper, something tumultuous just beneath the surface. "It's like he's an open book one minute, and then a mystery the next," Yok thought, ruffling his hair in frustration. He felt a compulsion to know what was inside Longtai's head, to peel back the layers he sensed were there, one by one. But every time he thought he had a glimpse, it slipped away, leaving him yearning for more.

Yok could feel the warmth of Longtai's smile and the way his eyes sparkled with creativity, and yet the memory of Ren's mocking tone clung to him, pulling him down like an anchor. It irritated him that Ren had the audacity to belittle Longtai, to imply he was weak for needing someone to care for him. It wasn't weakness; it was humanity.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Yok made a sudden decision. He needed to release this energy, to find a physical outlet for his frustration. He turned to the corner of his room where a punching bag hung, slightly swaying as if inviting him to take out his emotions on it. With purpose, he walked over and began to punch it hard, each strike releasing pent-up tension.

His fists connected with the bag, the rhythmic thuds echoing in the quiet room, drowning out the noise in his mind. With each punch, he envisioned Ren's face, the way he had smirked as he mocked Longtai. The thought fueled his strikes, anger propelling him to hit harder, to unleash the whirlwind of emotions he couldn't articulate. "Who does he think he is?" Yok grunted, frustration spilling out with every blow.

The physical exertion helped to clear his mind somewhat, but every time he took a breath, Longtai's image floated to the surface. Their worlds were so different-Longtai's quiet introspection clashed with his own extroverted nature, yet there was an undeniable connection he felt toward him. The layers of Longtai's personality intrigued him, and with every interaction, he felt a deeper pull.

"Just let me in, just a little," he murmured between strikes, the bag swaying with his relentless punches. He wanted to know more about Longtai, to understand the thoughts that swirled behind those expressive eyes, the stories hidden beneath the surface. Each time he imagined Longtai's smile, he felt a pang of longing mixed with uncertainty.

Yok paused, his heart racing from both the physical exertion and the whirlwind of emotions. He wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping back to catch his breath. "What if he lets me in?" The question lingered in the air, filled with possibility and fear. "What if I can actually be there for him?"

As he stared at the punching bag, he realized that he wanted to be the person Longtai could lean on. He wanted to shield him from the world, to give him a space to feel safe and secure, something he sensed Longtai struggled to find. But with that desire came the fear of rejection, the fear of being too much or not enough. Would Longtai see the darkness he tried to hide? Would he run away like so many others?

Determined to push those thoughts aside, Yok returned to his easel. The canvas stood before him, waiting for his touch, and he knew he had to try again. Picking up his brush, he took a deep breath, channeling the emotions from earlier-the frustration, the longing, the desire to understand-and began to paint once more.

This time, he allowed the colors to flow freely, not restricting himself to any preconceived notion of what the painting should be. As he painted, he let the emotions guide his hand, transforming the chaotic lines into something that began to feel like more than just a piece of art. It felt like a reflection of the tumult within him, of the connection he yearned for, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could reach Longtai.

The colors came alive under his brush, swirling and merging into an abstract piece that spoke of complexity and depth. The layers he painted felt akin to the layers he sensed in Longtai-a beautiful mess that was both heartbreaking and uplifting. Yok smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction in the creation as he poured every ounce of himself into it. In this moment, he was reminded that art had the power to transcend words, to convey the unspoken bond he felt with Longtai.

--

It had been three days since Longtai had pulled away, leaving Yok in a state of restless confusion. For those three days, Longtai had been avoiding him-no texts, no casual meetings at the university, nothing but silence. It was driving Yok mad, and the more he thought about it, the more flustered he became. Longtai was like a riddle wrapped in layers of mystery, and Yok hated not knowing what was going on in his head.

Now, Yok found himself in an abandoned part of town, a place where the walls were a canvas for anyone brave enough to make their mark. It was a decayed building, broken windows and crumbling brickwork giving it a feeling of desolation. The air smelled faintly of mildew and wet concrete, and patches of wild grass grew between the cracks in the pavement. This place was a haven for street artists-people came here to escape, to vent, to paint the parts of their souls they couldn't express anywhere else.

Yok was standing before one of the larger walls, shaking a can of paint furiously in his hand. The sound of the spray can rattling echoed off the deserted walls as he stared at the blank space in front of him, his mind racing. He didn't even know what he was going to paint. All he knew was that his head was full of Longtai-of the silence, of the way Longtai's eyes had avoided his the last time they met, of the uncertainty that was gnawing at him from the inside out.

His fingers moved almost without him thinking, pressing the nozzle of the spray can, creating long, jagged lines across the wall. He moved quickly, furiously, trying to expel the frustration that had built up inside him over the past few days. Each line he drew was filled with the tension he felt, the confusion. His mind kept replaying that last moment-Longtai's sudden retreat, the hurried excuses, the look of fear in his eyes.

Yok's fingers worked with practiced ease, his body leaning into each stroke as he began to fill the wall with abstract shapes, sharp angles, and harsh contrasts. He could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves, and he was pouring it into the lines of the graffiti. His hand trembled as he worked, the paint can vibrating with each shake, the sound punctuating his thoughts. "Why does he have to be so difficult?" he muttered to himself, his brow furrowing in irritation.

He sprayed thick, black lines that crisscrossed like the layers of Longtai's personality-some parts open, clear, and easy to see, others hidden behind darkness, impossible to reach. Every movement was tense, precise but wild, as if Yok were trying to decode Longtai's very being through the strokes of his graffiti.

The lines became more frantic as he thought of the way Longtai looked at him when they first met-guarded, but curious. And then the way he'd smiled, how his eyes softened, and the way he had seemed to slowly let Yok in. But now, it felt like all of that progress had been shattered. He pressed harder on the spray can, adding layers of color-blues and blacks, blending together into a chaotic but strangely beautiful mess, like Longtai himself.

"Hey!" Emma's voice broke through his haze. She was standing a few feet away, holding her skateboard, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow. "You look like you're about to punch the wall, what's going on?" she asked, watching as Yok threw the spray can aside in frustration, realizing he had run out of paint. He cursed under his breath.

"I'm out of paint!" Yok growled, running a hand through his messy hair, making it stand on end as he glared at the half-finished piece in front of him. The graffiti he'd created was aggressive, full of energy. It depicted the silhouette of a person, fractured and split into pieces, surrounded by jagged lines and swirls that seemed to radiate confusion and chaos. It was raw, unfiltered, and full of emotion-the kind of piece that spoke more of what was going on inside him than he'd ever admit out loud.

Emma skated closer, her wheels grinding lightly against the rough pavement. She leaned on her board, giving him a long look. "You've been acting weird for days. Is there something going on that I should know about?"

Before Yok could respond, Gram pulled up next to them, finishing a smooth flip on his skateboard. He stopped, kicking his board up into his hand as he raised an eyebrow at Yok. "Yeah, he's been like this for the last three days," Gram said, a smirk on his face as he glanced at Emma. "All moody and mysterious. It's getting kinda old, man. What's eating you?"

Yok sighed deeply, rubbing his temples with his free hand, his other hand resting on his hip. "Why is everyone suddenly so interested in my life?" he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. His sharp eyes darted between Emma and Gram, who were both watching him with curious expressions.

Emma tilted her head, giving him a knowing look. "Maybe because you're acting like a mad artist who's lost his muse," she teased, nudging him playfully with her skateboard. "Seriously, Yok, what's going on? You don't usually let stuff get under your skin like this."

Yok shook his head, exhaling through his nose as he threw the empty spray can to the ground. "It's nothing, okay? Just... just drop it," he said, though even he didn't sound convinced. He didn't want to admit that Longtai's silence was bothering him as much as it was. How could he explain the strange pull he felt toward Longtai, the frustration of wanting to understand someone so badly but feeling like he was always just out of reach?

Gram leaned against the wall, watching him closely. "Man, you're seriously worked up over something. I mean, I've seen you mad before, but this? This is something else."

Yok glared at him, feeling his frustration boil over. "I said drop it," he snapped, his voice sharper than intended.

Emma and Gram exchanged a surprised glance. Yok wasn't usually this easily flustered. Emma raised her hands in surrender, backing off slightly. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it," she said, though the curiosity lingered in her eyes. "But if you keep acting like this, we're gonna have to stage an intervention."

Yok sighed again, his shoulders slumping as the tension slowly drained out of him. He knew they were just trying to help, but he couldn't shake the feeling of restlessness that had settled over him. His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to keep creating, to do something with the pent-up energy that Longtai's absence had stirred in him.

Without another word, Yok turned back to the wall and surveyed his work. The fractured silhouette stared back at him, a reflection of how he felt inside-torn between wanting to push Longtai away for making him feel this way and desperately wanting to know what was going on inside his head.

--

The familiar scent of old books surrounded Longtai as he sat slumped over a desk in the small, dimly lit bookstore. This place had always been his sanctuary, a quiet corner of the world where he could disappear into the pages of a book and leave everything else behind. The low hum of the air conditioner was the only sound that broke the silence, but today, even that felt deafening. For the first time in a long while, this space-the one place where he'd always found peace-wasn't comforting him. It was too quiet, too empty.

Longtai sighed deeply, his forehead resting on his crossed arms on the desk. He glanced at his phone, seeing Yok's name flash across the screen. Several unread messages from the past three days stared back at him, along with missed calls that he hadn't returned. He hadn't even opened the texts. He wasn't sure why he was doing this-pushing Yok away when a part of him wanted the opposite. Maybe he was trying to make Yok give up on him, to walk away just like everyone else had. It felt like a pattern he couldn't escape.

The phone buzzed again, but Longtai ignored it, closing his eyes in frustration. He groaned softly, lost in his thoughts.

A quiet voice from across the room broke the stillness. "That's the third time you've sighed like that in the past ten minutes. I'm starting to think something's bothering you, Longtai."

Longtai blinked, lifting his head to find Mr. Lui seated on the couch nearby, a book resting in his lap. The old man had been a silent fixture in the bookstore for as long as Longtai could remember. Mr. Lui was one of the few people who frequented this place as much as Longtai did, always there with a soft, reassuring presence. Today, Longtai had almost forgotten he was there.

Mr. Lui's graying hair was neatly combed back, and his glasses perched low on his nose as he looked at Longtai with a calm, knowing expression. His thin lips curled into a slight smile as he adjusted his position on the couch, crossing his legs and letting the book rest open on his knee. "You know, you don't have to talk about it, but I've found that sighing never really solves much."

Longtai sat up, rubbing his face with both hands. "I didn't even realize I was doing it," he mumbled. His voice sounded tired, as if the weight of his own thoughts had worn him down. "It's just... complicated."

Mr. Lui nodded thoughtfully, his eyes soft but curious. "Complicated, hmm? Life tends to be that way, doesn't it? Care to share what's on your mind?"

Longtai hesitated, glancing at his phone again, then back at Mr. Lui. There was something about the older man's presence that made him feel safe, as if Mr. Lui could see right through him without judgment. "I'm not sure you'd want to hear about it," Longtai said with a faint smile, trying to deflect.

"Nonsense," Mr. Lui replied, waving a dismissive hand. "You know I'm always here to listen. Besides, it gives me an excuse to stop pretending I'm interested in this book," he added with a chuckle, closing the novel gently and setting it aside.

Longtai sighed again, leaning back in his chair. His fingers tapped restlessly on the edge of the desk. "It's just... I don't understand why I'm like this. Why I keep pushing people away even when I don't want to. It's like I'm waiting for them to get tired of me or to leave, so I... I do it first."

Mr. Lui studied Longtai for a long moment, his expression turning more solemn. He folded his hands in his lap, his gaze softening as if he was considering something from a distant memory. "That sounds familiar," he said quietly. "You remind me so much of someone I once knew."

Longtai raised an eyebrow, looking at him curiously. Mr. Lui had mentioned this before-that Longtai reminded him of someone-but he always spoke about them. There was always a bittersweet edge to his words, like the memory was both precious and painful.

"Who was it?" Longtai asked, his voice softer now, more curious than usual. It wasn't often he let his guard down enough to ask personal questions, but something about the way Mr. Lui looked at him now made him feel like it was okay.

A wistful smile touched Mr. Lui's lips, and he leaned back into the couch, his eyes drifting off as if recalling a distant past. "Someone very dear to me. Someone who, like you, built walls around themselves, afraid of letting anyone get too close. They were always so convinced that people would leave... so they did everything in their power to make sure it happened first."

His voice grew quieter, the smile on his face bittersweet. "I always wondered if they knew how much they were worth, how much love they deserved. But... they never gave themselves the chance to find out."

Longtai could see the sadness in Mr. Lui's eyes, though it was layered under a fondness that made it clear how much this person had meant to him. He didn't need to ask more. It was obvious that this person had left an indelible mark on Mr. Lui, even after all this time.

"Do you ever wonder... why people leave?" Longtai asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was afraid of the answer.

Mr. Lui met his gaze, his smile softening even more. "Sometimes, people leave because they don't know how to stay. But sometimes... they leave because they think they're doing you a favor. That's the hardest part to understand."

Longtai nodded slowly, feeling something tighten in his chest. He had always wondered if people left because they saw something in him that he couldn't. Something broken. "I just don't want to let anyone in, only for them to walk away later."

Mr. Lui sighed softly, his eyes glinting with understanding. "That's the thing about letting people in, Longtai. You take a risk, but you also give them a chance to stay. You have to decide if that risk is worth it."

There was a moment of silence between them, the kind of silence that didn't feel awkward, just heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts. Longtai's eyes flickered back to his phone. The messages from Yok stared back at him, unanswered, unresolved. Was he pushing Yok away because he was afraid of getting close? Or was he just waiting for the inevitable-waiting for Yok to get tired of him like everyone else had?

Mr. Lui watched him quietly, his smile returning as if he sensed Longtai's inner struggle. Longtai looked at Mr. Lui, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Were they... happy?" Longtai asked, though he wasn't sure why.

Mr. Lui's eyes crinkled with a sad sort of smile, his fingers tracing the cover of his book absentmindedly. "They were. But happiness isn't always enough to keep people from leaving, is it?"

Longtai's chest felt heavy as he considered the weight of those words. Maybe Mr. Lui was right-maybe happiness wasn't enough to keep people close. But then again, maybe it was the fear of losing that happiness that made people push others away.

-

Author's Note :

Keep reading! Keep turning the pages-there's so much more waiting to be discovered :)

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Love Yoon -