park

It stung a little less every time he heard her name now. Even after all these years, she'd managed to stick with him. Every time he'd think about those comic books it stung a little less. When he heard "Love Will Tear Us Apart", he found himself cringing less and less. The knife in his head with her name on it had dulled down. Now, the pain of her was bearable. He hardly thought of her anymore.

His mother was always saying something about her coming back. Park brushed it off, used to it now, but he still had that little glimmer of hope inside of him that she was right. He didn't really think about it that much, though. He hardly thought of her anymore.

He still saw girls with that mop of hair. Of course, none of them had fishing lures in them, but they still sparked something inside of him. Those curly mops were becoming more and more popular and that began to worry him. But it didn't matter when those same girls wore a tie, or an array of scarves on their wrists. It didn't hurt as much. He hardly thought of her anymore.

That postcard was on his wall. After praying over it what felt like a thousand times, he decided that he needed to stop crying over it, more literally than metaphorically. Because there's no use crying over spilt milk. Or those three words on the back. But none of that mattered. He hardly thought of her anymore.

He was still with Cat. She gave him what he needed, and that was enough to get him by. Whenever he was sad, he had Cat. Whenever those thoughts began to haunt him, he had Cat. Because who was he kidding. He thought of her all the time.

But love didn't really exist. No one could ever compare to her. He figured his parents were just really fortunate, and that was the only reason they were still together. He didn't love Cat. He couldn't bring himself to love Cat. But he loved Eleanor.

Eleanor.

Eleanor.

Fuck. He still loved her.