MiserysAngel521 has been a great support lately.
Thus, this one's for you.

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And as the days turned into weeks, it so seemed that the present I was hoping to last forever was short-lived.

The more I tried to convince myself, the distant I grew from him. Yes, it still feels amazing to bask in his company, but a small voice in the back of my mind would constantly remind me - he's not the one.

Sure, my heart would call it love, but my brain repeatedly rationalise the meaning of the said word. And before I knew, it was my brain that was taking over my judgement and feelings, while my heart succumbed to a simple belief.

A normal person would say, I'm asking for too much from my partner as well as myself; that I am forcing myself to expect things that aren't real, but even if that's the case - why don't I feel the connection anymore?

Yoongi has been especially focused on his moral development lately, just like he is trying to balance our relationship to an equilibrium state. But to me, in this place, at that moment, the uncounted, uncertain hours of our relationship stretched out, a red carpet hung like a tightrope.

Yoongi had always been clear that he was there if I needed him, but he did not see it as a place to intervene, and I did not complain, much. But when it is the other way around - no matter how much he tries to convince that I am indeed his moral support - he does not let me in. He's just a ship anchored to my rock. He is attached to me, but he doesn't depend on me, emotionally. And the fact, that I could never summon him to force me to say stuff, has still been an unexplored domain in my part.

It would be wrong of me to say, we did not fight. Healthy communication is a constant challenge, which developed an ebb and flow so that our personalities don't lock horns. But with every passing second, we were growing impatient and tired of all things that surrounded us. It wasn't just him that would snap at not liking the smell of stir fried broccoli and pork together; it was also me who would complain about the floral tissue paper in the toilet. Sometimes, we tiptoe around each other, and at others we practice arguing without being unkind.

"Fighting is good," Yoongi would say when we latched ourselves onto each other, cozying in his couch. "Doesn't the Holy religious books talk about righteous anger?" He would smile, and then look into my eyes as if he wants the answer not from my mouth but my eyes. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want to say the wrong thing, and so I have been struggling with not expressing my emotions, which has been driving me absolutely crazy because I just need to express myself, which I try to but I don't know to what extent I can, and it's been really difficult to get you to say what you feel."

Trivial as it may sound, our relationship is like a seesaw, constantly moving up and down in itself on a meaningless emotional exhaustion. At times, he would say he was tired, tired of being tired this way, and I couldn't agree more. The physical touch was just a mere distraction while we were collapsing, trying to convince ourselves that we don't feel good enough. Because we lack self-worth.

"Hey, you're early today." Yoongi kissed my cheek and I smiled, facing him completely. Grabbing another spoon from the rack, he sat beside me on the kitchen island before eating my cereal mix.

We ate peacefully, none of us trying to make a casual conversation. While he scrolled through his messages, I invested my time into thinking where are we going wrong?

Yoongi looked up from his phone and flashed me a lazy gummy smile. And with that my heart shattered into a million pieces. I don't know why I feel like this. I was positive this was love. Was I being wronged all this time?

"Guess what?" Yoongi started in an excited tone. "I got an e-mail from my former company, asking me to return back."

The verve was palpable in the tiny wrinkles that stretched around the corner of his eyes, and the smile that always seemed devastating to me. "I suppose, that's good news."

"It is!" Yoongi took another mouthful of cereal and munched the contents happily. " I can't wait to get back to Seoul."

Lips clamped shut, I stared at my fingers, fiddling with the spoon and trying to come up with the right words, but all I uttered was irrational bitterness. "I hate the fact how money exerts a large control over our life."

"What do you mean?"

"You going back to Seoul - back to your old life. The life from which you chose to ran away," I emphasised more on the last sentence.

"This isn't about money. This is about the career that I chose for myself. And as much as I would love to be someone like you, that won't be just right. Because I am not you, neither can I pretend to be like you. This was the path paved for me because I decided to choose it. The universe has everything fixed in a certain way, and the moment we choose to disrupt its equilibrium, it goes chaotic." He lets out a sigh of displeasure before resuming. "This Yoongi, right here, in Tokyo, eating breakfast with you is not the same Yoongi from Seoul working his ass off to make a recognition in the world. I have a clarity, a purpose when I'm with music."

"Will you be happy in Seoul?"

He looked at me meaningfully, "I believe I will."

This new found revelation bought a mix of conflict in my mind. I was once again delving deep into the aspect of my feelings for him, and once again, I found myself seeking counsel, but this time from my heart. I don't know what to even say or think. Just days ago, when I was convinced that maybe I don't love him anymore, but after hearing his words and divesting into an alternative of losing Yoongi made me realise - do I really not love him anymore? Or was it what I have been trying to convince myself? I would never know, because I don't try.

I leave the kitchen in soft steps, barefooted. Yoongi makes no attempt to follow me as I make a beeline trail to the bathroom upstairs.

Shedding every piece of clothing material felt like shedding a piece of my exterior ice shell and discarding the shavings into the laundry basket. I stood before the mirror in my entirety, naked and vulnerable. The flesh full of hollowness staring back at me.

The water was cold, as it pierced my skin like thousand needles boring deep into my flesh all at once.

Yoongi had indulged my numerous advances with utmost kindness and grace. But I am also terrified because his attention makes me feel so good. The concept of not being able to feel that way again is devastating.

My eyes stung, but I could not decide whether it was from staring as the cold water hit my face, or were they actual tears?

I am not supposed to shed tears just like I am not supposed to feel the pain of losing someone yet again, because I know I don't love him. But here I am feeling the pain intensify with every droplet of water. Why is it like this? Why is always like this with me? Just when I realise I am not supposed to feel love, is the moment I understand - I am in love. But now, what difference would this confusion even make?

I leaned my head forward against the cold wall, letting the water wash my warm back. I feel two strong arms snaking around my stomach, and a head leaning on my shoulder, his hair brushing my skin.

"Why?" I asked in a shaky whisper. "Just why did you step inside the shop that day?"

Yoongi moved, burying his head into my wet hair, taking a long sniff. "I'm sorry."

At first, I did not feel anything, but a sudden wave of emotions engulfed me like a cocoon: every single thread of emotion enwrapping my soul with a unknown sadness that pooled itself around my eyes. But I restrained, I restrained not to shed the tears, not to feel the pain. Because some day they are going to lose all its meaning.

Yoongi intertwined his fingers with mine, his palm engulfing mine in a soft, gentle grasp. He had milky veiny hands, while I had chocolatey smooth skin (as he liked to call it). Together in each other's company, our unified touch resembled that of yin and yang.

When I told him about it, he smiled at me like he would smile when he sees Min Holly, remarking I had a quirky way of comparing things. Of course, I paid no heed at that point. But now that I open the pages of our past, I can't help thinking he was indeed true.

I smiled bitterly at my thoughts.

How foolish of me to think we are meant to be for each other, when from the very beginning we placed each other in stark opposites - in this black and white world of ours.

I turned in his arms, meeting his eyes which reflected a guilt and a strange sadness. "When are you leaving for Seoul?"

"Maybe tomorrow night. Or day after tomorrow. I don't know." Yoongi let's out a tired sigh. "My company and family wants me there as soon as possible. I've a friend who'll take care of this apartment after I leave."

"How long have you been planning this out?"

Yoongi smiled weakly. "One week."

"And yet you did not tell me?"

"I...I couldn't." And I don't know what took over me, but I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to my body. Our bare chests touched, passing a jolt of spark that I originally thought had been lost.

At least he wasn't lying, unlike me. I have been lying to myself for my own pleasure; at times, when I can't comprehend my true feelings and my true worth.

Yoongi's thumb rubbed soothing circles above my hipbone, just about the right touch to melt me like a warm butter. I tried to shift as much closer as I can to his warmth.

Why do I feel so hard to let him go when I know I don't even love him? Is it possible for someone to achieve perfect understanding of another?

I invested an enormous time and energy in serious effort to understand me, as I believe he did for me, but in the end, how close did we come to each other's essence?

We got out of the shower and changed into fresh clothes. But all the while we did our tasks, we maintained the hush of the room and only let the the tolling of the clock take the empty vacuum.

Moving downstairs, I went straight for the door, but Yoongi grabbed my arm, pulling me into - what I assumed would be - one last hug.

"Did you really love me?" He whispered, burying his face deep into my hair.

His question contradicts my action. I feel a sadness melting around my eyes, but instead I pulled back and gave him a watery smile. "For the most part, I was confused but I would like to believe I did."

Yoongi returned my smile with an equal pain, squeezing my hand in soothing manner. "Would you stay in touch?"

Outside, the daylight reached everywhere as the sun shone over the vivacious city with a brighter intensity. And once again, I'm reminded of the day when Yoongi first stepped into the antique shop and how things took a different course from then.

I can't help but compare the differences between the two days, that of - that day and today. It was a cloudy afternoon with no speck of sunlight on a very fine Spring day. The sky was grey and unforgiving, when the cherry blossoms turned pink with colour and life. Spring, giving birth to our relationship, both emotionally and metaphorically. Whereas the bright sun on this cold December noon brought nothing but a spell of hypnotic farewell.

"Yes."

I untangled myself from his arms and walked out of the door, as the door closed automatically behind me.

I forced myself to take longer strides, letting the harsh wind guide me to my destination. I followed the jostling of the crowd on the street, the push and pull inside the train compartment, and finally walked down the sloppy, deserted lane.

I did not go to the shop that day or the days after, just because I didn't want to.

The antique shop was a turning point in my life, the point which made me experience a roller coaster of emotions, that was absent from my life earlier. I don't know whether it was worth it or not, but lying on my bed and staring at the white cracked ceiling made me the realise the futility of our relationship.

Picking up my phone, I dialled the old man's number. Mr. Saito answered after three rings. "Hello?" His voice weak but ambitious.

"It's me." My voice was breaking with all the overriding emotions. "I can't come to the shop."

"Are you alright, dear?" It's always been a question of amazement as to how quickly Mr. Saito changes his voice according to the person he's talking to.

I nodded, but then I realised he can't see me. It broke me to know how I vividly remember the old man face, pearly skin with small brown freckles around the stout nose and wide temple, his eyes rivalling the burning enthusiasm that of an infant, the corner of his eyes full of wrinkles that stretched even farther when he showcased his endearing toothless smile, and that little mole on his lip that his wife would interpret as a sign of chatterbox.

"I'm sorry Saito-kun," I abruptly ended the call as I did the same thing as Yoongi - saying goodbye with a guilty 'I'm sorry'. It was also at that moment that my phone vibrated and Yoongi's picture came into display. It was a side profile of him staring longingly into the bright horizon from the top of Mt. Fuji. The enchanting aurora shone on his face and casted shadows at the back which gave him an ethereal presence. The more I stared at the picture, the more I questioned myself - where did it all go wrong?

The call died soon and the wallpaper came into display. This time, it was a picture of Yoongi and I in bed. The morning sun gleamed on our faces while my hair sprawled messily on the grey pillow. Yoongi's dark brown orbs fixated on my face with an evident adoration, while he traced the shell of my ear with his soft touches. I smiled goofily at the camera, but Yoongi was nonchalant. He focused more on tracing the outline of my ear than smiling at the camera.

I see him.

Now, I saw him.

The present in which I had dared to exist will soon be his past.

I was so hazed, I did not even realise the tears staining the sides of my face with an agonizing burn. But it's not like I could control it, so I let myself cry and cry until nothing is left of me except for a lifeless body crying on a cold mattress.

I chuckled humorlessly at the ceiling. Memories, too, would grow stale overnight, just like my impending thoughts.

I scrolled through my contact list, searching for Yoongi's number. The hardest part was pressing the delete option; forcing myself to be an amnesiac to his memories, and a deaf to my thoughts.

The present that I rigorously hoped to turn into a welcoming future was now nothing, but a cold and silent reality. And the wise decision was to leave since Yoongi belongs to a different world, a different community. Maybe I knew that already, but I pushed myself to believe in love when I clearly wasn't, and in the same way pushed myself out of love when it was the time for me to fall for him. Evidently, it would be better if we are left on our own. For yin and yang are separate boundaries.

They can't be together.

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AN: So before you start throwing your expensive shoes at me, I hope you got the confusion part of love. I mentioned earlier that this story covers the theme of the three trivias (from Love Yourself series) - beginning, development and turn (or conclusion). The song Trivia Seesaw talks about separation, realisation, futility of relationship and implies confusion in a relationship. I took that as my main subject and tried to explore the themes in a fictional universe. You have all the right to hate on me, if you feel this is utter crap.

As usual, feedbacks are always welcome. If you would like to suggest some changes or ideas, leave an inline comment here.

Thank you for all the love and support. Next up, will be the Epilogue.