One Night To End Them All

Her eyes scanned the room. A man sat in the corner wearing a yellow fisherman anorak, coils of white hair sprouted from his face wildly; suggesting that he hadn’t been taking care of himself. He twisted a ring on one of his chubby fingers and stared out the huge bay window, by which he sat. The seat opposite him wasn’t taken but he kept glancing at it, as if it were. The man’s bright blue eyes didn’t take notice of his surroundings at all and due to the fact that there was no longer steam brewing from his cup, it was now cold. Why come to a coffee house if you weren’t going to drink? Unless he returned for sentimental value…in that case, this place must bring back good memories. Possibly a first date? But who he could be-

Dead wife, Eunji concluded.

She’d been analysing each and every other customer for the past three hours whilst she waited in the refurbished coffee house. The walls, glossed with a shining layer of carmine red paint, complimented the chestnut brown of each wide-stretch wooden table. Generous mugfuls of scorching hot tea and aromatic coffee adorned the polished coffeehouse furniture. Eunji’s reflection blinked back at her, gaze cast down in a blasé expression. She lifted her head away from the burnished surface and instead, her narrowed eyes fixated on the small, overworked waitress who’s unfortunately grating voice had brought Eunji out of her trance. 

Though more than happy to avoid the topic of her own appearance, Eunji was forced to frown at the waitress’ infuriatingly admirable figure, envy stirring in the pits of her belly. Maggie, her nametag read. Eunji dragged herself away from the sinful curves that Maggie possessed and she did not, turning her attention to the harsh stomach churning sound of the coffee machine as it struggled to produce the hot steaming liquid much beloved by its customers. As hard as she tried, Eunji could not help but let her thoughts wander back to appearances even as she fought to bury them in the usual gentle murmur of voices. 

Raven black hair curled around Eunji’s face in an awkward fashion, it dulled the twinkle in her eyes and instead, brought attention to the dark purple beneath them. Fatigue was indicated in the creases between her arched eyebrows and the prominent cheekbone slices – though she made no effort to disguise her lack of taste for sleep, her thin lips remained coated in a thick layer of red lipstick. Her eyes broadened with jet liner and framed with bold lashes. She certainly wasn’t one for masks but it would be cowardly to deny that Eunji indeed liked to hide behind one. Eunji’s eyebrows pulled together fiercely as she remembered their taunting words.

“She has porcelain skin alright, and I’ll bet she’ll crack like porcelain too.” 

Eunji redirected her attention to her surroundings.

A bell tinkled by the door to signal a new arrival. Eunji did not have to turn around to confirm her thoughts; fore she already knew who it was. Door budged close behind them, sign of politeness. Heavy stomp of the boots, clunky and thick – ideal for someone who regularly travelled. Heavy breathing pattern, the deep inhale and exhale showed the signs of a snorer. A smoker too, but not a heavy one; trying to preserve their voice. A frequent public speaker, although too casual to be considered a speech-maker – perhaps a musician? An overbearingly familiar waft of guava, pear and husk found its way to Eunji and she sat back in her maroon armchair watching heatedly as the tall figure drifted past her and across the coffeehouse toward the counter, his movements unhurried. The cogs in Eunji’s brain wound round exceptionally faster than before as she took note of everything there was to take note of.

The lift of his ears, the crinkle by his eyes, the ruffle of his Marvel jumper, how a peachy pair of lips stretched to form a toothy smile in the direction of Maggie who waved enthusiastically at him. His large brown eyes lit up, very much likened to a particularly endearing deer. They knew each other, Eunji established.

Look at her body for Christ’s sake, of course they know each other.

Eunji lifted the tall honeyglow yellow mug of bitter coffee and sipped at it, feeling perfectly fine. She smiled to herself as her palms settled round the hot mug as it was placed back on the table. Eunji plucked the silver teaspoon sitting next to her placemat – she aimlessly stirred at her already mixed coffee.

“You’re looking awfully proud of yourself, should I be afraid?”

The teaspoon clinked against the side of the mug as it was dropped in exchange for a swift motion, in which Eunji produced a golden watch strapped around her wrist. 

“You’re late,” she squinted at the screen. “Thirty-seven-and-a-half minutes to be exact.”

“Aaah, I know, I know,” Eunji’s ears pricked at the whoosh of his hands running through his hair. “Traffic’s a nightmare. Mind you, I did take my time; I’m surprised to see you turned up, actually.”

“I am also surprised,” She tutted, reaching for a sugar packet. “But instead at your choice of location.”

“It’s quaint, only opened up again recently. You don’t like it?” Eunji raised her eyes for a millisecond to catch his arms gripping the back of the armchair opposite her, eyes glazed over with a caramel shine as he regarded her curiously. 

Eunji shrugged. “It suits its purpose.” 

“It would if you invited me to sit down.” 

“Yes, you do seem to be hovering, quite infuriatingly I might add.” She emptied the sugar into her coffee - sugar that she didn’t want. “Very well. If you’re staying, do take a seat.”

“I might just do that.” A small chuckle sounded and Eunji’s gaze flickered towards him and this time she held it.

She studied him, eyes scrutinizing over each and every detail. “You’ve changed your hair. And that shirt –it’s new, isn’t it?”

“A minor trim, that’s all. I would ask how you knew, but…I can’t say I’ve forgotten your remarkable observational skills, Eunji.” A smile tugged at his lips and he cocked his head to the side, as he walked round the chair and took his place opposite Eunji.

“What’s the intention of your flattery, Ji? Do you wish to seduce me?” 

Jiyong knew better than to assume she was joking. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, flickering his eyes to her relentless ones.

“My intention has been the same for a while now,” Jiyong leant forward to pick up the small saucer of milk, clearing his throat nonchalantly. “Nothing nasty, Eunji. You just haven’t been returning my calls. Or my texts. Or my emails.”

“I haven’t had time to read them.” 

Jiyong looked at her for a moment with an uncharacteristically cynical expression, shaking his head before dunking his teabag and watching it bobble like a dingy boat. “Right.”

Eunji picked up the small slither of cream paper and scanned the list of different mouth-watering slabs of cake and exotic-sounding beverages. 

“You’ve not changed a bit.” Jiyong said sourly.

“Was I supposed to?” 

“We haven’t spoken since… I just thought you might have.”

“It’s been a month, Jiyong, of course I haven’t changed.” Eunji smiled at him. “But if you were expecting me to, I hope you enjoy the feeling of disappointment.”

“You’re a bit like my dad.” 

“We’re talking about the dead one, yeah?” She blinked at him, unmoving.

But Jiyong did not flinch or get angry, he just frowned. “Yes, we are talking about the dead one. Sorry.”

“Jiyong, please don’t feel the need to make conversation. It’s really not your area.” Eunji glanced at him momentarily before returning to the small menu, missing Jiyong’s blushed expression as he tried to find words.

But he did find them. “When he was dying, he was always cheerful, he was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see?”

His tone was light and easy, but he stared at Eunji intensely. “I saw him once. He looked sad.”

“Jiyong.” Eunji warned.

“You look sad. When you think I don’t see you.” Eunji’s eyes skimmed Jiyong’s for a mille-second. If you’d blinked, you might have missed it.

Jiyong did not have the same expression as Eunji did when reading people. Whilst her expression was sinister and penetrating, his was intense yes, but he actually looked at the person inside. Not like Eunji, who cast every human as a maths puzzle she needed to solve. He studied them with a gentle approach that no one Eunji had ever come across could master. For that, she was forced to take a big gulp of tea and meet his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jiyong started but began again before Eunji could answer. “Don’t just say you are, because I know what that means - looking sad when you think no one can see you.”

“You can see me.” Eunji said.

“I don’t count.” Jiyong said. 

And he smiled like Eunji did often – unhappily.

Silence set in and Eunji’s face went slack, mouth slightly open, body unmoving and colour draining from her face as she stared wide-eyed at Jiyong. 

He’d continued to speak, whilst Eunji stayed frozen. “What I’m trying to say is, no matter what happened – if you ever need anything, anything at all, you can have me. No, I mean-“

The shock melted away and Eunji recovered quickly as reality set in, Jiyong was still speaking. “I just mean, if there’s anything you need… its fine.”

“But what could I need from you?”

“Nothing. I don’t know.” Eunji observed as a rosy colour crept up Jiyong’s neck and across his cheeks. He was embarrassed.

Eunji frowned, causing deep worry lines to make an appearance on her forehead. She could be compared to a doll-although by no means a cherished and pristine one. More like one that had entertained a spoilt and uncaring child every day for years, being used and then tossed aside unceremoniously. However, this damaged doll still had vowed to retain her pride and continued to wear its painted smile, despite the cracks beginning to show.

“But you don’t like me anymore.”

“I will always like you,” Jiyong took a sip of his drink, the teabag still dangling over the side. “And I will always love you too.” 

Eunji smiled at him, but her hands clenched the edge of the coffee table between them. “You made the decision to end things, Jiyong, not me.”

“I had to ask myself a lot of questions.”

“I didn’t.”

Jiyong looked at her incredulously. “Did it not occur to you that, maybe it was all pretence rather than love?”

“I don’t like to say whether the thought crossed my mind,” Eungji leaned forward. “It can be hard to make good decisions under duress.”

“But you never made a single good decision Eunji,” Though Jiyong’s tone was pleasant, his words weren't. “Not in our relationship, anyway.”

“’This isn’t a relationship, it’s a train wreck’ is what you said.” Eunji nodded, taking another sip from her mug.

“You remember that? Eunji, I wasn’t well at the time. It was no wonder I was spouting rubbish like that.”

“For your benefit, you can imagine it as you wish,” Eunji looked at him over the brim of her drink. “But if I remember correctly, as I almost always do, you were perfectly healthy the day you told me that I acted upon the directions of my head rather than my heart.”

“I didn’t-“

“-that I was too rational- “

“Now, I-“

“-and that I would never know what true love felt like.”

Silence.

“Do you remember saying that?” the words a ghost on Eunji’s lips. They stretched to form a small smile but she diverted her eyes to the ceiling.

“Yes.” Jiyong whispered back, eyes pressed shut. 

“You’re like the people I read in books.” 

But Jiyong shook his head frantically. “You’re the type of person they write books about, not me.”

“Did you ask me to leave because you think I’m not capable of loving?”

“I asked you to leave because I didn’t want you to think that relationships like ours were okay.” 

“And that’s what you’ve been trying to tell me?”

“What I’ve been trying to tell you, is that even though the relationship was not okay, how you acted was not okay, how I acted was not okay, it is okay.”

Whatever words she’d hoped to say died on her lips. No, Eunji would not hear this – she couldn’t. She didn’t know how to react. The table had begun shaking slightly with Eunji’s tight grip on the edge. As desperately as she could, Fia focused on the ripples of her coffee, rather than what was just said; at least she tried to. Eunji, you will not think about this. For once in your life, do not analyse. Do not try and understand. Eunji was starting to lose willpower and her teeth began to chatter and grind together. She rocked slowly back and forth in her place as Eunji willed a pair of metaphorical hands to push and push and push the memories away. Moisture pooled in her eyes with the effort and suddenly the room became colder as the memories took control. She felt his arms enclose her and she could taste guava in his jumper, she chewed at the material and clawed at it but let him hug her. 

Eunji looked up. Jiyong was gawking at her incredulously, eyebrows crinkled. He wasn’t hugging her – he sat opposite her, a few metres away. People still spoke, conversations garbled and distorted in the background. Eunji was sitting upright - she wasn’t shaking at all, there was silence. 

As he started to ask what was going on, a pain began to circulate in her palm and she murmured in discomfort. Eunji regarded her hand and had to bite her tongue when she caught sight of the extensive, open wound cut into her palm. She winced as blood gushed from it, wondering where it came from. Then she saw the glass on the floor. Except it wasn’t the cream and maroon tiles of the coffeehouse floor anymore, it was a beige carpet – a glass of red wine staining its pristineness. 

That glass, Eunji recognised it. Her moment of clumsiness – her only moment of clumsiness. It had been the night that Jiyong had been angry at her – his only moment of anger. It had been her fault this time, and this was one of most powerful memories, instead of analysing what she had done, she would instead analyse what she should have done. It was scary, even for Eunji. 

Eunji, he’s coming now. Jiyong is going to burst through that door and you’re going to listen to him this time. He’s going to yell, he’s going to roar with anger and you will let him this time. You will let him shake your shoulders, you will accept responsibility and you will let him take the glass from your hand. If you fight back like last time, you will get cut so let it drop. Let it fall to the ground and this time, Eunji, you are going to pay attention to what he’s saying – you’re going to see his tears, you will not pretend you care about the stain on the carpet, and you are going to feel something . You’re not going to speak of the broken light in the bathroom, and you’re not going to bring up the unpaid gas bill and you’re not going to mention the lipstick stain on Jiyong’s neck just to see him squirm. He’s coming now, Eunji. Let him win so that you win. Because if you do what you did last time, you’re going to lose him all over again. He’s walking up the stairs now, Eunji. He knows what you did. Be someone else for once and you get to keep him. He’s almost there. Eunji, he’s coming now. He’s here. 

To Jiyong, it must have looked like Eunji had become paralysed – fixated on one spot, barely breathing or moving. But to Eunji, this was how it felt to be inside her brain. This was how very real each memory would become when she would remember them, almost as if she was there all over again. They were so clear that she could touch them; she could feel every word she’d spoken as a vibration – as if she were someone else watching herself make the same mistakes.

“You’re spacing out again,” Eunji blinked as Jiyong waved his hand across her face in attempt to awaken her. “Please tell me I haven’t just been speaking to myself.” 

Eunji was out of breath, she needed to exhale but something was stopping her from breathing. A sense of farewell. 

“Eunji, can you hear me?” 

Yes, I can. 

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Yes, I do. 

“Please say something – do something. Nod if you can hear me.”

There was silence for a while before Eunji's glazed eyes met his and she nodded slowly.

“I love you.”

Though she didn’t visibly hear the words, Eunji saw his plump lips move in time with them and her heart quickened and she visibly gulped. His eyes searched hers desperately. They both knew that this was the part where she said it back. Several moments passed and then he sighed before raking a hand through his brown hair.

“This is what happened last time. Do you remember, Eunji?” Jiyong took her freezing hands in his own large, calloused ones and she looked at them dumbly. 

To Eunji, they didn’t look like they were made to fit together, her fingers too long and thin whilst his were too small and fragile – like a doll’s in the clutches of a monster. But from the way Jiyong was looking at them with an awed expression, Eunji could see that he thought different – that to him, they fit like puzzle pieces. He was trying and she did not have the strength to. Her bottle lip quivered uncontrollably but he did not see. Jiyong did not meet her eyes as he spoke.

“I would very much like to be with you, Eunji,” He let go of her hands and clasped his around his cup of now-cold tea and stared into its icy waters. “I know you find it hard to feel, or at least express how it is you feel. So I’m going to give you a chance, okay? I want you to tell me I should stay. I want you to tell me that we are going to start afresh and that you would like to do so, just as much as I do.”

Luhan, stay. I want to start afresh just as much as you do. 

The inner walls of Eunji’s throat rubbed together like sandpaper until they were red raw, the cogs working so fast that parts of the machine were breaking, heart beating so fast that it didn’t beat at all. She willed herself to speak; every single limb in her body was encouraging her. Her legs crossed and uncrossed in anticipation, her fingernails drummed against the table impatiently and Eunji could feel hot blood flow all around her body. But then something stopped her. The huge lugging weight that was her brain acted as the anchor, the concrete shoes dragging down the hope, the promise, and, most of all, the emotions that had been fighting desperately to stay afloat. She sat in silence though Jiyong could sense the dangerous flames their way up through her insides. If he'd looked up at that moment, he might have witnessed one of the saddest, most unforgettable cases he'd come across; a woman whose warmth and confidence had been shattered, who’s feeling of security had diminished – wherein shame and confusion had filled in their absence. 

He whispered. “Prove me wrong.”

There was a pause before Jiyong spoke again.

“Show me some sign that there is a human inside there.” His voice cracked uncharacteristically.

The words sent Eunji’s body into shutdown and one by one, the switches flicked off. She sat vacantly, regarding him through a pair of eyes that didn’t belong to her. Eunji slammed her fists against the cage of her brain – she screamed so loudly failed her when she tried to speak again. Let me out, please let me out. Let me be someone else please, only for a moment, so that I can keep him. Eunji was paralysed with terror as she watched the disconcerted man before her let out a quiet sob. She shivered at the thought of his soft, honey skin, the arch of his perfectly defined eyebrows as they rose in disbelief, the pair of huge chocolate brown eyes blinking slowly at her and his peach lips pouting like a small child. His child-like antics and facial expressions contrasted with his overall appearance, which managed to be both well-kept and rugged; strong cheekbones and a jawline sometimes complimented by a layer of stubble that gave him a carefree yet handsome look. Nobody would ever assume that this man would be capable of faces so sickly sweet; just the thought of it made Eunji's stomach churn, despite how many times she had been exposed to these stares. 

Eunji knew every single item in Jiyong’s wardrobe; she could recite his schedule for the month word-for-word, and could tell what kind of mood he was in before he’d walked through the door but she didn’t know how to communicate with him. Sometimes, Eunji doubted her ability to communicate even with herself; if she knew so much about Jiyong, why was it so hard to let him know that she understood him? Did she understand him? True, she knew a lot about him, but can memorising every detail of someone's appearance and habits, both in body and soul, really be seen as insight? She hadn't met any of his friends and family, and now she never would. It was a shame. This way, she would never be able to properly deduce if the behaviour she noted to be unique to him was really just a result of his surroundings... or if he was different around her.

He nodded, understanding now and Eunji observed flabbergasted as he stood up from his chair, its heels scraping against the tiled floor. Jiyong pressed his eyes shut and knew that he didn’t want to open them, for he knew that once he did, the happy memories would shatter like fragments of the broken wine glass. But he did open them and let out a puff as he looked back at Eunji, eyes rimmed with traces of her. Jiyong ruffled his hair and smiled at her but the smile dropped when he saw her confounded expression. Eunji held her breath and waited for the inevitable.

Jiyong strode forward and knelt down in front of her; he tapped her forehead gently with the pad of his index finger and whispered. “This thing inside you, it’s stopping you from breathing. It is stopping you from loving. It is stopping you from living. I may not be a genius, but I’m smart enough to figure that out. If you ever decide to breathe again, Eunji, you know where I’ll be.”

He pressed a warm kiss to her icy cheek but she recoiled, because she was afraid to touch him. 

“Think about me once in a while, will you?” Jiyong did not look startled at all by her dismissal; he kissed her cheek once again, gave her a small wave and then spun away from her in surrender. He walked towards the door, head held high and Eunji winced when hearing the tinkle of the door as it opened and shut.

Eunjistared after him for a few moments, his Marvel jumper whipping about wildly with the strength of the wind. She took several shuddering breaths, wondering if anyone could hear them as clearly as she could. Eunji’s gaze settled on the mug that had sat in front of Jiyong at the table, and she stretched across it to look at the mug’s milky contents. Earl Gray tea. For some reason, she felt an urge to move. Eunji stood up sluggishly and at first she thought her body might carry her after Jiyong but her brain, like a GPS, redirected her towards the bathrooms. She peeked around the contemporary, cream restrooms before deeming it clear and locking herself up in a cubicle. 

At first, Eunji just sat. She stared at the bare walls, the useless potted plant in the corner and the mirror whose reflection resembled something very different from the Eunji she knew.

The bright light seemed to accentuate shadows of three-hour sleeps under her eyes, her skin was translucent and her eyes dull and unresponsive. There was an aura of grey around her, a mist that wouldn’t arise. A weight bore down on her shoulders and she couldn’t straighten up or catch her breath entirely. Eunji reached a trembling hand out for light with all the strength she could muster but her own fist was blocking it. She caught a glimpse of the darkness that she knew would soon swallow her, and she was almost scared .

‘I have porcelain skin alright, and I’ll bet I’ll crack like porcelain too.” Eunji’s lips moved without consent.

Feel something. 

It was after a few minutes before her eyes pressed shut and something very peculiar happened. 

A salty droplet ran its way down Eunji’s cheek, forming a crack in her foundation. She paused, apprehensive to see what would happen before another fell into her lap. Eunji sniffed in bewilderment and swiped at it rapidly as it if were a pesky fly. But it returned with another and another and another, following suit. It wasn’t long before she couldn’t control them, she didn’t know how to. When some sort of burning sensation stirred from her chest, she desperately grappled the front of her shirt and wafted it hurriedly, in order to fan herself. 

Feel something.

The heat started in her hands, and slowly crept its way up to her neck and face before spreading across her entire body. Her shoulders were heaving up and down, her breath coming out staggered and shaky. The emotions building up inside Eunji, always being repressed, always pushed away for the good of sustaining her pride, would not be silenced any longer. She felt as though boiling lava was rising throughout her body. She was the catalyst, the volcano that threatened to abandon its dormant status and rain bottled-up fury onto everything around her. 

Be someone else and you get to keep him.

And then her brain stopped. 

There was no longer a thousand racing thoughts, fighting and demanding to be felt. They no longer bubbled to the surface like tadpoles, wriggling and writhing until she noticed them. Instead there was only one feeling left and it was a poignant one. An impulsive urge to die pulsed through Eunji’s now frail form and she drew her shirt’s sleeve to her face and screamed and screamed until her muffled cries were nothing but a dull throb in her ears. 

He knows what you did.

Her body tore across the small room and her fists clenched the sides of the sink for balance and Eunji took big gulps of air once she’d steadied herself. Her pale skin was now blotched with pink, lashes dipped in dew, and her hair matted on top of her head. Eunji leaned forward and looked at her reflection once again and let out a high-pitched shriek before she dissolved into tears, sobs raked her body as her heart spiralled into a deep abyss. This was what they called prolonged self-containment.

He’s here.

She understood now why the old man in his yellow fisherman anorak in the corner returned every day for his beloved. It made sense now and suddenly, Eunji and Jiyong’s hands were a vision of two halves of a locket. It had been a long time since someone had ever been able to shake Eunji’s exterior, but here she was…at wit’s end. Eunji saw blues and greens in her eyesight and felt her knees drop to the ground achingly slow; she released a final crushed breath and with that, she gave in. Eunji let herself slip into the slumber that she’d deprived herself of for eight and half years, her head resting on the floor as hammering and shouting rose from outside the door.

You made him lose so inevitably, you lose too. 

People always told Eunji that it would hurt at night and that screaming into your pillow at three o’clock in the morning, was apparently the romantic equivalent of being heartbroken. But she realised that day, whilst locked away in a cubicle; that sometimes it was 10am on a Tuesday morning in a public coffeehouse, the smell of dusty sunlight and his Earl Gray tea that makes you miss him so much you don’t know what to do with your hands.

And now he’s gone.