Jeong Yunho stared at his phone, the contact name Song Mingi burning his glazed over eyes in the darkness of his bedroom. Outside, the city bustled, rich with nightlife. Partygoers and alcoholics loudly exchanged conversation, their words completely audible, even over the bass of the music Yunho was blaring.
Cherry Waves had been playing on repeat for the past twenty minutes. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t intentional– but it did wonders to his intoxicated body, making his heart twist and turn with every soulful verse.
Clutched in his hand was the neck of a heavy glass bottle of Bacardi Superior. The fragrant liquid sloshed around in the bottle, along with the acidic burn of the alcohol in his stomach. He’d promised himself– no, he had sworn he was okay with being friends– that he’d accepted their ending.
He hadn’t really, though. It was painfully obvious, even more with the truth serum melting away those carefully constructed lies. With every drop, the dam that held back his desperate longing for Mingi crumbled, threatening to unleash a tidal wave of regret and raw desire.
So he did it. He gave in, whether he meant to or not.
Jeong Yunho: yo
Jeong Yunho: i’m missing you more than my liver is missing being sober.
He sat there with his phone laid on his thigh, looking down at the screen in expectation. It’s two in the morning, so Mingi could very well be in bed and asleep, yeah ? Or at least that’s what he told himself.
Out of the whole year and a half they had been together, Mingi never went to bed before six am. So he was awake. Question is, why hadn’t he answered ?
‘Did he… block me ? No, he’d never do that to me. He promised we’d always be friends..’
Maybe he did fall asleep. Only because Yunho refused to believe that Mingi would deliberately ignore his texts. Or in this case, advances.
He was still hopelessly in love with Mingi. Everything about him was meant for Yunho, and he was sure of it. Two people who started as friends, progressing– what else was there to say about a relationship like that ? It was perfect in his eyes. Perfect for them.
Jeong Yunho: mingiii~
Jeong Yunho: wake uppp
Jeong Yunho: i miss you.
He was starting to feel pathetic about his whole situation, if we’re being completely honest here. What came over him, overpowering his whole body with the urge to text his ex, while he’s stripped of his inhibitions and completely distraught ?
‘I should go back to church.’
Jeong Yunho: i bet you’re in bed
Jeong Yunho: probably like
Jeong Yunho: naked
Jeong Yunho: mingi, are you sleeping ?
No response.
Yunho laughed at himself, but not quite because it was funny. Because it was sad.
The playful facade suddenly shattered. The Bacardi had done it’s job, not only in breaking down those thick walls, but tearing down their barrier that he’d worked so hard in enforcing.
The flimsy attempts at flirtation now felt hollow, replaced by a crushing weight in his chest. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, but the words that came next weren’t at all what he’d intended, they were a desperate plea from the deepest parts of his bruised heart.
Jeong Yunho: i actually really miss you.
Jeong Yunho: it hurts. i want us back
Jeong Yunho: why did we ever stop ?
Jeong Yunho: please answer.
The silence from Mingi’s end was worse than radio silence, sharper than the burn of the Bacardi. Yunho took another long swig, the bottle feeling lighter in his hand, but his heart much heavier.
He felt stupid. Inadequate.
He was no longer trying to tease Mingi awake; he was trying to scream into the void of their absence, desperate for an echo.
from my piece, BACARDI *****.
you're welcome.