THE RHYTHM OF US: RYEJI

Chapter 22: Flickering Lights (not missing her)

Ryujin's POV

The December air hung heavy with anticipation as I walked through the snowy streets, my hands nestled in the pockets of my hoodie.

The world around me transformed into a winter wonderland, each delicate snowflake contributing to the serene landscape.

The cold seeped through the fabric, but it was a comforting chill, a reminder of the season's embrace.

With each step, I left a trail of footprints on the pristine blanket of snow beneath. The soft crunch of my boots melded with the distant sounds of the city. The glow of streetlights cast a warm hue on the snowy canvas, creating an ethereal scene that mirrored the quiet turmoil within.

As I walked, my breath materialized in the frosty air, a visible testament to the frigid temperature. Each exhale formed a fleeting cloud, dissipating into the night. I moved through the winter's embrace, lost in contemplation.

I glanced at the faces passing by, their warmth evident in their rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes.

Yet, amidst the picturesque scene, a wave of melancholy washed over me.

Beautiful faces smiled at me, but my thoughts inevitably spiraled back to Yeji.

A bittersweet smile played on my lips as her image surfaced in my mind. The weight of emotions lingered, and I found solace in the anonymity of the snow-covered streets.

Stopping beneath a flickering streetlight, I gazed upward. The snowflakes fell gracefully from the sky, each one a delicate dance in the cold night air. I closed my eyes, letting the silent whispers of the snowflakes envelop me.

As the snow touched my face, I couldn't help but think of her again. A sigh escaped my lips, mingling with the crisp winter breeze. I touched my lips, as if the physical act could erase the lingering taste of longing.

"Why is it so hard to forget?" I whispered into the quiet night, the words lost in the hush of falling snow.

The stars above seemed to hold secrets, their distant glow offering no answers to the tumultuous emotions within.

The snow continued its gentle descent, and I resumed my solitary journey through the December night, a silent witness to the complexities of emotions that intertwined with the falling snowflakes.

The giant Christmas tree stood tall, adorned with sparkling lights and baubles, a beacon of festive cheer in the heart of the town square.

A crowd had gathered, their excitement palpable as they eagerly awaited the grand moment when the tree would be illuminated in a dazzling display.

Amidst the crowd, I stood alone, captivated by the anticipation that filled the air. The chilly breeze carried the scent of pine, and the soft murmur of conversations blended with the distant hum of carols playing in the background.

Lost in my thoughts, I felt a sudden bump as Yuna approached, her voice breaking the solitude. "Why alone, Ryujinnie?" she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I couldn't suppress a smirk as I retorted, "Why, you have a problem?" A playful smack followed, punctuating the exchange.

Yuna, undeterred, grinned and said, "I was just asking."

"Nothing," I replied, my smile revealing more than my words. "I just felt like walking alone."

Our attention turned to the towering Christmas tree as the crowd began the countdown. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1" echoed through the square, a collective anticipation building with each number.

The moment arrived, and the Christmas tree burst into a dazzling array of lights. Cheers erupted, and the crowd, armed with their phones, captured the enchanting sight.

Yuna and I joined in the shared joy, the luminous glow reflecting in our eyes.

As the festive atmosphere enveloped us, Yuna shifted the conversation. "What are your plans for Christmas?" she inquired.

I shrugged. "I actually don't have any."

Yuna offered an inviting suggestion, "I'm going back home and spending my Christmas there. You can come over."

I hesitated, then replied, "I'd think about it."

Yuna nodded, perceptive of the unspoken thoughts lingering in the air. "You're thinking about something," she observed.

A sigh escaped me. "I've been thinking about a lot of things actually."

Yuna, ever irreverent, suggested, "Maybe you just need to get laid."

I couldn't help but react, slapping her. "What the hell did you say? Get out of here."

She laughed, unfazed. "Why are you and Yeji treating me like I'm a child? I'm a grown adult, please."

The festive spirit continued around us, but in that moment, amidst the twinkling lights and Yuna's lighthearted banter, a sense of introspection lingered.

Yuna's question hung in the air, a gentle inquiry cutting through the festive ambiance. "Are Tito and Tita not coming over?" she asked, her tone carrying a touch of concern.

A moment of contemplative silence enveloped us, the weight of unspoken words lingering like the scent of cinnamon in the air.

Yuna, sensing the heaviness, offered a compassionate apology. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I replied, my voice calm but tinged with a trace of resignation. "You know them. They'd never come over."

Perceptive as ever, Yuna countered, "Maybe they will."

I glanced away, my gaze shifting from the Christmas tree to the space beyond.

The familiar ache resurfaced-the cavernous divide between familial expectations and the stark reality of my relationship with my parents. "They reached out to me."

Breaking the silence, Yuna redirected her attention to me. "When? What did they talk about?"

I took a deep breath, my response measured and deliberate. "They want me to come over to their place."

Yuna's eyes widened with curiosity. "Oh, so you're leaving the country this Christmas."

I nodded, the weight of uncertainty settling in my words. "I might never come back."

As the Christmas lights flickered around us, the path ahead seemed uncertain, and the decision to embrace or escape the bonds of the past lingered like a shadow.