Letters On Our Skin || BangChan

55

I didn't watch him leave my room.
It was early morning, the sun had just risen an hour ago.
We had slept next to each other, our bodies entangled in a warm embrace.
I was barely awake when Chan detangled his body from mine and put on his shirt. I pretended to be asleep when he then bend down to give me a kiss, a small and soft peck on my lips.
I pretended to be deep asleep when he crossed the floor, opened the door, and slipped through.
And now I'm laying here, torn between being relieved, and wanting to yell down the corridor asking what the fuck I am supposed to do now.
He should have woken me up. Or maybe I shouldn't have pretended to be asleep.
In any case, we should have decided how to behave around each other now. We should have made a plan. We should have talked about what exactly last night's development means for us.
Is he going to tell the others about this?
No, he wouldn't. Not without discussing it with me first.
But I would be kidding myself if I didn't expect Felix already sitting on top of Chan's bed, asking where he was last night with a suggestive grin on his face, the minute Chan opens the door to their shared room.

I kick at the blanket and grab for my pillow, pressing it over my face to scream into it.
I sit up and take my phone to text Binna, but she doesn't answer, probably because it is literally seven in the morning.
I consider getting up and just going to Chan's room to drag him back out so we could talk about it.
But if he had wanted to talk about it, he would have. Last night, this morning.
And now that I think about it, I am not sure I want to know what he has to say about it.
Maybe he has nothing to say. Maybe he doesn't know what to say now that it is out of his system, which means he has probably lost all interest in me and simply doesn't want to hurt my feelings by telling me exactly that.
Or worse: maybe he regrets ever coming to my room last night.

A shiver runs down my back and I want to bang my head against the wall.
This is a disaster.
I check my phone, but it's no use. No calls, no texts, no notifications.
I stare out the window for a moment, then I get up and dig in my suitcase for a fresh pair of underwear, shorts and my sports bra. Then I grab my hoodie and my sneakers, which were originally for a possible hike in the woods, but they'll do.
I pull everything but the shoes on and then sneak out  the door, down the stairs and across the living room.
I text the group chat that I'm going on a run and that I'll be back soon because I need to leave a note somehow so no one wonders where I am.
I leave through the back door.

I hate running.
I had forgotten how much I hate running, but the truth of it rushes back in after the first four minutes.
Running under normal circumstances is already a pain in my ass, but running on this soft sand on the beach is a thousand times worse. It's horrible, it's absolutely shitty.
After another ten minutes, my whole body hurts from running while my shoes keep on sinking into this soft pillow of hell, and I'm thinking someone is trying to punish me.
I don't believe in God, but if he does exist he does not much like me.
Running was a bad idea not just because it is so exhausting, but also because it is colder than I had anticipated. It's early summer, and the sun that will warm everything up to a comfortable 25 degrees is not very strong in the early morning.
Still, I keep torturing myself and it magically works. My head frees from all the questions surrounding Chan for exactly as long until I stop moving. So I don't. I keep on running, dragging myself along the beach, past an ice cream parlor, a camping ground, and what looks like a small karaoke bar.
I run so far, that I reach a trampled road leading away from the beach, and without thinking much about it, I take it.
I follow the road, and when it spikes into two or three, I randomly choose one to follow.
I only realize that I don't know my whereabouts when my lungs are as dry as the Sahara and my eyes keep watering from exhaustion.
I would die for some water.
I stop in the middle of the road, and look around. There is nothing here but trees, this road, a few random fences, and langer posts.
Nothing.
I check my phone and realize I don't have any service. So even if I wanted to use google to figure out where I am, I couldn't.
With a start I realize I can't call or text anyone, and no one knows where I am.

Hours must have gone by because the sun is bright and aggressive by now. I glance up at the sky. It's completely clear.
My only chance of getting back is turning around and hoping I'll find my way back.
This was not what I had in mind when I started this run.
After walking for quite some time, I check my phone again. This time I do have service and the relief sends tears to my eyes. I drop onto the ground right there where I was standing and dial Chan's number.
Maybe it is stupid to call him, but he's the only one I want to talk to right now. Plus, he can probably imagine why I went on a run this early in the morning in the first place.
"Olivia?"
Chan picks up immediately. There is worry in his voice.
"Yes, it's me," I answer.
He says, "Where are you? You've been gone for three hours, no one knew where you were. Your location wasn't working, we were this close to calling the police."
I roll my eyes. It's nice to know they worried, but that's a little far fetched.
"They wouldn't do anything, you know that. I left a note, and it hasn't even been a day. The police couldn't do anything."
"Your dad is a detective, don't you think he'd try everything possible to find you?" I can hear annoyance in Chan's voice.
"I'm sorry," I say and rub my face, "I went on a run on the beach and then took a way off the shore and now I'm so far away I don't really know where I am. I'm on my way back right now, but it might take a while."
"Okay," Chan sighs and the noise in the background quiets. He must've gone into another room. "And then I think we need to talk about... you know."
I close my eyes.
He can't even say it.
Last night.
Us.
He must be so ashamed. Maybe I've driven him too far.
Something twists inside me and I press my hand to my chest.
"Yeah," I answer then, "I agree."
I end the phone call before he can say anything else and get off the ground, patting sticks and dirt off my legs. I wanted to ask him if he could come and pick me up with a bike or meet me halfway and bring a water bottle, but not like this. This makes me not want to hear another word out of his mouth.
I roll my shoulders and start walking.
But every step is carrying me towards the inevitable and I don't know if I want to face it just yet.