#c.hana

[247kihyun]

before the night ends

@247hana // 2018 . room 143 . mvl hotel . yeosu . 11:45 pm

the camera feels heavy on his thighs after a long day and his legs pulsate in pain when he takes of his shoes. he looks around the room. neat, clean, as if no one had been living there for the past few days. truthfully, kihyun just didn’t want to see her. hana. the last time he had said that name was the moment he said good bye, never to see or hear from her again. when high school rolled around, it seemed like there was never a kihyun and hana. as if there was never movie nights and playing dress-up. as if his wish had truly come true. a past erased. is gossip girl that involved in everyone’s lives to know so much history, so many stories just to pile them up before them? it first came as a joke to him, a sudden coincidence; maybe it’s someone else named hana, he thought, but deep down he knew it had to be her. if he had met someone named hana, it wouldn’t hold so much strain in his heart just to think of the name come out of his lips. he would have forgotten her too. forgotten the moments of bliss and innocence, the memories that helped him push through the moment she stepped into that plane.

he would be sleeping by now. rolled to his side, his back away from her because he didn’t want to see her when he opened his eyes. he was sure she didn’t want to either. it had almost become an undeclared rule to be out of the room as soon as possible before the other wakes up. the only time they could be together in one room is once one of them is sleeping, or pretend sleeping. he would hear her steps at night and sometimes he wanted to say something, but his emotions always get the best of him and he hold back and keeps his eyes closed until he dozes off to sleep. yet every morning he feels disappointed. kihyun hates an unresolved problem more than anything and knowing that the vacation is coming to an end, his chest becomes heavier with desperation. if not now, when? he sits silently on the hotel room’s chair, clicking through the pictures of the week, but instead of paying attention to him, he’s playing scenarios of confronting her in his head, choosing different words he knows he’s not going to say and solutions that most likely not come true. as the minutes pass, the more impatient he becomes and his eyes continuously gaze from his camera to the door, hoping the door chimes and sees her again.