Passion's Side Effect Short Story (Dedicated to Jeemin Roh)

This is written according to her lyrics in the song~~

VOTE PEOPLE VOTE FOR HER IF YOU LIKE THIS. ;D



Passion's Side Effects



We say our hellos that end in goodbyes.



It used to be what I say to him everyday when I see him across the hallway. Sometimes he would pick me up outside of my house and we would walk to school together, holding hands and having small talks that we would forget the minute we start listening to the lectures of the teachers. We would laugh along the way, with our distance between each other so natural that it was almost joyful.

Our shoulders bump into each other once in a while, and we looked at each other's irises, and smiled.

"Hello," He would say.

"Hello," I would say.

After each day, the same thing happened.

"Goodbye," He would say to me at night.

"Goodbye," I would say.



It's so polite I almost forget

The way your lips felt under the streetlight



He would then bend down and kiss me. The luminent light on the streets shone on him in the perfect way. The nightly sky swayed above me, adding a calm atmosphere around us.He had a seduced expression on his face as he approached me. His eyes would glisten with a mixed emotion. It moved me.

Our lips went closer and closer.That was when our mouths touches. Our eyes closed one second before what we knew was coming.He would occasionally whisper my name against my lips, as if he was sighing.

I knew what it felt like.

***

His voice was soft with the goodbye. It was shaking vulnerably. I knew he did not want to hurt me. But it did.

My mind was completely blank, and then his voice vanished like the dust on my desk after my mom cleaned it. My life was back to normal, like he was not there in the first place.

But he was there. He once was. I remembered.

And even I was beginning to question my memory.

Was it even real?

Was it?



How you would throw me up against

The wall we scratched initials of our names with chalk.



During lunch, he would lure me away to MacDonald's or something and always give me half of his big French Fries. He would smile at me and push his half-finished fries towards me without a word. I took one and nibble with it for ten minutes. He would watch me.

We would go through my house later after lunch so that we could stay in the basement and either read or talk quietly so that we would not interrupt my little brother who was taking a nap during this time period.

I would always sit in front of wall where he wrote our initials on. It was written with white chalk, so we had to rewrite it from time to time.

He would suddenly capture my two wrists, sometimes my shoulder, and push me against that wall, then kiss me passionately. It would always make a huge 'thump'. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be noisy. But I did not care anymore.

After patting the white powder off my back, he would laugh at my flushed face and tell me that he loved the salty taste of my lips from the french fries.

Maybe that was why he would give them to me.

And Maybe that was why I kept eating it.

Did you pay up your parents' phone bill caused by endless talks?

He'd call me everyday to say good night. But it never ended with just "good night" and eventually turned out to be a time more than one hour.I'd lie on my bed, hair wet from a hot shower, and lean slightly against the phone so that I would hear every bit of his voice.We used to talk about the things we see outside our windows. And when my curtains were closed I'd guess what I was seeing and lie to him because I was too lazy to open them. He'd catch me when I described the moon the wrong way, like when I said it was 1/3 arc when it was actually 1/2 full.

I once joked about our phone bills. And that he would be broke just trying to pay all for himself.He said his parents would loan him money, just that he'd have to pay them back in the end.I promised him when that happens, I would share half of the responsibility.

I wonder if I still have the right to take the obligation?

I'd count the freckles on your shoulder.They're sprinkled like stars, or on donuts.

I wanted to put my fingers on his shoulder, to count one by one his unique freckles. Touching through every one of them and smile and tell him how cute they were. Tell him how I want to bite it because donut sprinkles would look just like that.

I knew what he would do.

He would buy me a real donut in order to prevent me from biting him on the neck.It would be just a vampire, he would chuckle.

I've always wanted to do it.But I never did.

Maybe I should have.

And oh my God, I've become so hopeless.That's when I found out it had to end

I hate myself for not knowing where this relationship is going.
I hate myself for not being able to forget.
I hate myself for not wanting to forget.
I hate myself for wishing he is still by my side.
I hate myself.
I'm hopeless.
I'm hopeless.
Because I am thinking of asking him for help.
I am hopeless.

With all the letters that you wrote when I'se asleep.They now hide underneath the bed you swore you'd never leave.

He said that he wouldn't leave me alone that night. He sat beside my bed, stroking through my long hair.
Watch me sleep? I asked him.
Then that's just like Edward Cullen. He laughed.
He lied down beside me, with his eyes descended, covering his irises by eyelid. He looked half asleep except the fact he was twirling my hair between his fingertips.
I love you. He murmured.
I couldn't reply, sleepiness overwhelmed me.
Then he would hide underneath my bed when my parents came to my room to check on me.That was when he wrote small messages on the bottom of the wooden bed and sneak out in a way that I would never discover.
Check under your bed, I left a message. Was what he always said when I got mad at him for leaving.After a certain time, I stopped getting mad at him and began to go beneath my bed in order to check what he wrote.

The last time I checked, the little messages made the wooden bottoms invisible.

It felt like yesterday.

Now I feel just fine. I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.

I wish my laughter and the sardonic jokes about him with my friends would cover the sound of my heart breaking.He would never be dead to me. But I would never say that.
I missed him.But I would never tell anybody that.
I only used my boyfriend to forget about him.But I would never say that.
Not because it would hurt him.
Just because I want to shape my new relationship.
Just because it is not normal to think about him anymore.
Just because I did not want to show him any signs, any traces of my previous passion.

Bye, honestly, I hate-What we've become: so complicating to the point it's irritating.

What are we right now?
I wanted to ask him that.I am afraid.
Maybe we are not anything anymore. But maybe we are everything.
We can't put a name to this anymore. To this connection. To this distance.
Because it is too simple to put a name.
And 'us' is too complex.
I don't want to put a name.
It might ruin our balance.
Because maybe we are not anything anymore.

Passion's fun but trust is boring.Shut your mouth but keep it moving.

He should keep being himself. Because I love him for who he is.
He should fall in love with her. She deserves it.
He should stop trying to explain it to me.
Don't be dragged by me.Go.
I wish I was strong enough to shape my mouth into those words.

Too shy to tell him how we were.Wish I could spill it all the moreAbout all the fights and screams we shared.Never mind the nights and dreams alone.

What's wrong? My boyfriend asks me.
Nothing. I answer, smiling bitterly.
It's just something I've always had. I'm used to it.
What is it?
It's a side effect, sweetie.
Of what?
Of sickness.
The screechs, his roars echoed like a melody. I didn't care about waking up in mornings without his smile. As long I could dream about nightmares with him in it.
It's a sickness. It's a side effect.
Are you okay? He asks me again.
I'm okay. I reply, starting to sob. Because I want it.

I want it.

How much I miss you - I could never tell, I curse you, ‘Cause the hole you left a cavity, that's filled up by our brevityS-sickening. th-threatening. k-killing. st-st-stuttering.The side effects of you and me have left me broken.

Broken.

Shattered.

But I promise I won't make it difficult for you to move on.I swear my eyes will be typically dry when you say “Now I feel just fine.”I don't get nauseated when she'd kiss you.Lie, tell'em you're dead to me, ‘cause he'd hate it if I missed you.Bye, promise I will hate you.

He would never turn back at me and see if I was staring at his back anymore. He would smile to his new girlfriend when she sweetly beamed back at him, and then touching his shoulder to reach his cheek. To drop a kiss.
That would make it easier because I do not want him to know.
I don't want him to know all of the things I am going through.It's not his business anymore anyways. But I wonder....if I ever smiled like that when I was once with him.
I stifled all of my emotions when he talked to me in the school yard about the formal "goodbye".
I remember his expressions. They were full of sadness.
Thank you for being with me up until now, he said to me.
The words kept resonating in my brain.
Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
See you later.
Bye.


Passion is like a pill. It is like a drug. After you swallow it, the side effects will come. It is different for everybody.But side effects will eventually come.Sometimes it gnaws on your inside. Sometimes you feel dizzy and empty and collapse on your bed, thinking about how the pill would make you feel better.

How ironic.

Passion is like an eternal cycle.