The first time we kissed, we were saying goodbye.

I think part of the reason why I couldn't even consider anyone else was that – I'd given my first kiss to Jongdae and it felt wrong not to wait for him, wrong to even think about anyone else but him.

I cursed him a time or two… okay, maybe a bit more than that but honestly, because I missed him so much.

Why did he have to go and kiss me just when he was leaving? When we both knew there was little – if any – chance of his ever coming back?

I still hung on to that for eight years.

A lifetime, in the words of ever-wise (read smart aleck) Byun Baekhyun.

It wasn't really a surprise to anyone – except my mom, perhaps – that I refused to even consider any of my numerous  (few) suitors. She was despairing for me as it was – after all, quiet, studious and reclusive were not what most men looked for in a bride. They wanted vibrant, loud. Not me.

It worked perfectly for me because I wasn't looking for anyone but Jongdae either.

Sadly, though, my wait was in vain.

He'd promised me a year – a year in which he would come back with all the wealth his family had lost so he could court me properly. I still had the silly metal hoop he'd given me in lieu of a ring, I'd worn it the first few months we'd parted but eventually, my parents had tired of entertaining my strange flights of fancy and I'd retreated to putting it in my chain, wearing it close to my heart.

It wasn’t until the spring of the eighth year that I decided to stop waiting.

But only because the dead couldn't come back.

………………………………

'Brat!' Baekhyun's teasing voice echoed, followed by a loud squeal of 'meaner' and a whole lot of foot-stamping that usually followed Mae, my little sister, about.

I ignored their argument in favor of staring into the eyes of the man (boy) I'd come to love with the whole of my heart.

I wished, in that moment, that I had Mae's brashness or Ri's coyness – either would be helpful right now because I wanted, so badly, to tell him I loved him and just stop him from leaving.

All I had, though, was the quiet tears that wouldn't stop filling my eyes. I kept swallowing because I didn't want him to think I was a sissy – the boys had made it clear I was part of the gang only because I wasn't a crybaby.

Still, my eyes filled because he was leaving.

'Wh…' I had to clear my throat before I could contin