Rrring Rrrring

Yohan groaned as he threw his alarm clock against his wardrobe. But alas, it kept trilling on the ground, making the “forgotten” novelist sit up in his bed. Furiously scratching his head in annoyance, Yohan heaved himself up from his dark bedroom, shuffling over to the stupid clock. Turning it off, he grumbled to himself, annoyed that he had to wake up so early on a Friday to finish up his new draft (he had scrapped his previous plot for a new one).

It was nearing the end of the week and Yohan couldn’t wait to hang out with Eddie tomorrow. Begrudgingly, he opened the curtains and surprisingly, it was a gloomy day with grey clouds covering the usually blue sky of Los Angeles. Stretching, Yohan yawned as he finished making his bed—maybe he’ll order some Korean beef soup for breakfast? Hot soup’s always tastier when it’s raining!

Padding into his bathroom, he ripped off his shirt, exposing his once-toned abs that were slowly fading away due to his lack of exercise over the past month (and overeating on ramen and pizza on a daily basis). Smacking his flat tummy, he frowned. Did he gain weight? He checked himself out, staring at his abs before sighing. The author hadn’t been at the gym since he started on his new book, and with the amount of junk food he was consuming, it was a wonder how he managed to still have a flat stomach.

“… Urgh… I guess I’ll have to hit the gym again today… or tomorrow. Maybe I could ask Eddie to work out with me…Or not…? Ah, whatever.” he muttered.

Slapping his tummy one last time, Yohan jumped into the showers, ready to take a nice, hot shower before tackling the tedious work that was waiting for him downstairs.

~~~

Yohan sighed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. He glanced at his phone, it was already 3pm and he was starving again. The pitter- patter of the rain had helped him to stay focused on his work for the past six hours. He grumbled as he leaned back in his seat, almost finished with chapter nine. Yohan still wanted to add a few more scenes to some of the other chapters but was stuck on how to incorporate them.

Ignoring his growling stomach, the writer was about to get back in the zone when his phone buzzed next to him. Tsking, he picked up the phone, irritated that someone was calling him.

“Hello? Mr. Yoo?”

“Uh, who’s this?”

“… It’s Andrew Nam, your new editor?”

“O-oh. Hi. Uh… what can I do for you?” Yohan asked, coughing, as he tried to clear his throat. He did not expect the new editor to call him. 

“Um… Are you sick? You don’t sound too good.” Andrew asked worriedly. Yohan rolled his eyes; what did he care?

“Hello? Mr. Yoo…?”

“Huh? Oh. I’m good. So, what did you need…?”

“I see… I was wondering if you had a complete list of your past works? I’ve been trying to connect to my wifi on my laptop and phone for a while, but it hasn’t been working too well. Could you send me the list through text, on this number?”

“Uh… sure, but what do you need them for?” Yohan asked, a confused look on his face as he got up from his seat and to the bookshelf in the corner of the living room.

“I wanted to read your past works to get a feel for your style. It shows a lot about a writer’s character and personality.”

Yohan froze at those last words. The novelist gripped the wooden shelf tightly as Eliza’s smiling face flitted through his mind, the same exact words echoing within his head. He could hear the slight laughter of Eliza’s sing-songy voice ringing in his ears as if she was right next to him. Yohan gulped, trying to shake off the memory of the illustrator from his mind. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on the past…! Tears welled up in his eyes as Yohan ignored Andrew’s concerned voice. Why did this new editor resemble her so much? 

“Mr. Yoo…? Yohan!”

Yohan snapped back to reality as he swallowed hard before responding, “Y-yeah. Sorry, I’m still here. I-I’ll send you the list. See you at our first meeting next week. Take care.”

“Mr. Yoo—" 

Yohan hung up the phone, shakily letting out a breath, collapsing onto the floor of his living room. He squeezed his eyes shut, as images of the smiling woman flooded his mind. All the effort he had put in to lock up those memories collapsed in a mere second upon hearing the exact words Eliza had told him three years ago. Why couldn’t he just let her go…? 

Yohan banged his head against the bookcase multiple times, causing it to shake until a picture frame crashed next to him, the glass shattering into tiny shards. Yohan’s heart sank as he slowly looked down at it. It was the only picture of Eliza and Yohan. They had taken it after he had finished his final manuscript for his last book three years ago. The novelist shakily picked it up, brushing off the shards of glass as he stared at Eliza’s genuine bright smile. 

He couldn’t shake off the weird feeling in his gut— why did he feel so uneasy? Like a huge chunk of him was missing…?

Shaking his head, he bit his lip; trying to contain the small whimper that was right on the tip of tongue as he laid the broken frame back down on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling on it to keep himself from wallowing further in his grief. 

Standing up, he walked away to get a broom from the supply closet near the backyard patio. Yohan paused, looking down at his phone in anger and grief. This was all his fault! Why did Andrew say such a thing to him?! Why did that stupid editor stir up the emotions he had bottled away deep inside of him?

“Goddammit… This is all bull! Why am I…” Yohan sighed, wiping his tears from his cheeks.

Why did his new editor resemble Eliza so much? Their smile, their aura… they were too similar. Yohan groaned in frustration as he grumbled to himself to stop comparing them together. He hated feeling like this. Why couldn’t he just forget all about her? Wasn’t three years enough? Her smiling face haunted him as he stood there motionless, unable to do anything.

Gripping the broom tightly in his hands, Yohan shook his head. This was ridiculous! How could his new editor remind him of Eliza of all people?! They were nothing alike! …Right? Yohan groaned, frustrated with the fact that he had completely dug his own grave by agreeing to work with Andrew. Who could he blame, but himself for this mess? 

No, there’s a way out, there has to be! What can piss him off so bad that he’ll want to leave…? Should I try to be an ass? Hmm… That could work… I’ll just make it so unbearable for him that he has to leave before the year is over!, the author reasoned in his head, nodding enthusiastically at his own plan. That editor was going to run away with his own two feet— he would make sure of it!

“Fuck… This is driving me insane…! I’ll drive him out! Let’s just drive him out for good!”

**NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.**