Love is not a sin. Even if the person you fell for isn't aware, or doesn't love you back, or already has a lover. Love is love. Can you really blame us, foolish humans, for falling for people we shouldn't? This four letter word is a gift from God that we should appreciate, even if Cupid shot the wrong person.

You are not comitting a crime, even if it feels like you are. If people tell you it's 'wrong', even if it feels wrong, it's not. It's more right than you can ever imagine. You, my dear reader, are perfectly normal. You're allowed to have feelings, you're allowed to want to kiss those precious lips, and no one can deny you imagination. You are allowed to love, just as much as you are allowed to hurt. Though it's cliche, love is a drug. But a good one. But to have someone love you back, well, that takes a miracle. 

After about half an hour of reading, I wonder if Lee Ryemin was just a psychotic e, or a genuis. But he's wrong. Oh, so very wrong. How stupid is it to fall for someone who is just simply 'polite'? I doubt Lee Ryemin was ever in my position, a fake relationship that went further.

I flop the book onto my head, but it lands louder than I expected. I hear Sungyeol rustle from the bed across from me. I don't know why I'm up at 5 in the morning. As if it's routine, I rise from my bed, making my way down the ladder. I pass Myungsoo sleeping, but I try not to look. If I look, I may not want to look away.

The sun is just beginning to rise. I waddle my way through the hallway, and back onto that front porch that I sat on with Myungsoo only two days ago. My breath still comes out as smoke, but I feel fairly warmer. As I watch the sunrise on the porch, my mind keeps wandering back to Myungsoo, asleep so peacefully.

And when I hear footsteps clamping down the hallway, the click of the door, I hope that it's him. But when I turn around, a cheeky grin greets me, and I smile back, a sad smile. I try hard not to show my disappointment. He sits next to me, stretching his long arms. Sungyeol brushes back the front of his brown hair, now grown longer. We sit together in awe, watching as the light of the world rises. "Pretty, isn't it?" I mumble.

He turns to face me. "If I threw you a corny pick-up line, would you suddenly fall for me?"

A smile creeps up on my own face, matching his grin. "Possibly. Depends, what is it?"

"Not as pretty as you."

I rub my freezing lips together, nodding my head. "That's not bad. But it's not great either." He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows, letting the sun shine it's rays along the lines of his body.

"Sungyeol, why did you choose me?" I mumble. The question has been sitting on my  mind since I first met him. Why me? Why me, when he didn't know a thing about me?

"When I first laid my eyes on you, I heard angels singing," he says, smiling. "Something clicked. You're special, Nana."

I gulp, knowing he must be lying. I shake my head. "But you didn't know what kind of girl I was."

"What kind of girl are you, Nana?"

I stand up, suddenly furious. Malicious thoughts fill my head; he's lying, he's playing you, it's not true. "The kind of girl who sleeps with her cat every second night, the kind of knits to pass time, who wears stripy woolly socks with the funny toes, the kind who has reading glasses, who sits beneath a fire and reads, the kind who would rather write five hundred essays than do sport, who doesn't have a single friend, the kind who," my voice lowers as I whisper the last words, "Nobody would give a second glance at."

Sungyeol stares back at me, his eyes shrill and innocent. Suddenly he rises, and wraps his arms tightly around me. It's a different feeling being hugged by Myungsoo and Sungyeol. This is the boy who is warm even when it's snowing. He's the one who's smile can light up a thousand lanterns, who's breath smells of peppermint and auburn leaves. I let myself rest in his arms, allow myself to hug him back. Almost awkwardly, he pats my head. "You're lucky I like those woolly toe socks," he says. When he grins this time, I smile back.
 

The boring activites pass, one by one. By the time that the night games come by, we're sitting in the campfire area, doing nothing. A white figure flashes by the forest, a white angel. The angel looks too familiar, the same perfect stance, the same smile, the same eyes. He looks back at me once, smiling. Instantly, I am intrigued. As if in a daze, I follow the angel, leaving the camp behind. Not that they notice me going, anyway. 

 I look around aimlessly, unsure of where I am going. My footsteps leave marks in the snow, as I trample around everywhere. After a few minutes of walking, the angel enters a small building. I chase after it in a hurry. I finally reach the small wooden shed, one that I'd never seen before, and enter it quietly. The door squeaks, a defeaning sound against the silence in this forest. When I shut the door, I hear a click. My heart begins to thump, as I try pulling onto the handle again. It doesn't budge a bit.

As my pulse races, I try a million ways of opening it. It's too strong though, I can't push it down. I look around aimlessly, for the possibility of a key. Instead, I'm greeted by rusty old tools, a wheelbarrow, and some garden pots. I groan to myself mentally. Nana, what have you gotten yourself into?

If you're stuck in a shed in the middle of the forest for a few good hours, alone, even the slightest sound will scare the living daylight out of you. Every hoot, squeak, meow, and quack is suddenly the sound of a serial killer. I sit tightly in my corner, my arms wrapped around my knobbly knees. The activities should have ended ages ago by now, but I don't see any sign of people. Hasn't anyone noticed my absence?

I can't stop my lips from chattering. I shiver lightly in the cold. Cold. Always cold. The night is so shrill, I guess it's around nine or ten now. I've been here for too long. My lips feel hard and chapped from the freezing night. As if I've been covered in the snow and left to die. 

When I hear footsteps, I want to act up. I want to scream for help and make noise and cry and cry and cry. But my body isn't working. I'm frozen, like a statue made of ice. But the person outside screams loud enough for me to hear. "Nana!" he yells.

My eyes open, wide, alert. "Myungsoo!" I call back. As if he's brought me to life, I run to the door, knocking on it with my fist. "Myungsoo," I cry, the tears spilling down on my frozen cheeks.

He recognises my voice, and instantly, he tries to push the door open. I can hear him grunting in frustration, his urgent screams, the panic. "Help me," I beg.

With a final, giant heave, he pushes the wooden door open, with such strength even I, half-concious am amazed. His face looks as cold as mine, his lips a faded blue colour. He huffs, watching me. On the side of his face is a scratch, where blood drips with an alarming red stain. "Myungsoo," I cry, running straight into his arms. With no hesitation, he welcomes me into his warm embrace, pulling me close to his chest.

My tears stain his coats, but we know we need to move. My legs are frosted and almost disabled, and without words, I hop onto his back, and we start walking back to the camp. The only sounds that I can hear are his feet, crushing the snow beneath us. Like a child, I cry into the back of his neck.

The teachers are huddled together, deep in thought. When they hear us approaching, instantly, I'm carried off Myungsoo's back, and my vision blurs. I can hear frightened whispers, sobs, noises I am not aware of. I am untangled from L, and my hands fly around to find his. For one second, our hands touch. His are bloody, mine are freezing. Just one touch, before we are pulled apart by adults, seperated.


When my eyes fly open, I am in a room that is unfamiliar, yet I've been here before. Everything is a bland, white colour, there are beds lining one side of the wall, the smell of the room is too clean. It's a hospital ward. To be more specific, a small one. A nurse's office. I scan the beds across from me, eyes desperately searching for L. When I finally find him, resting next to me, leaning on my bed, I gasp. His face scratched, he looks worn. Nothing like the angel that I saw earlier, the exact replica of the boy before me, but even more perfect. The angel was unscarred, he was glowing. This boy is bleeding, his lips dry and cut. 

His eyes open, glancing once at me. "You finally woke up," he mumbles.

This time I can't stop the tears rolling down. The salty liquid fall down my cheeks like a waterfall, staining me with pain, with sorrow. "I'm sorry," I say, as I hiccup from my tears. "I'm so sorry."

His hand reaches up to wipe the tears slowly. "Hey, don't cry. It's okay. You're safe now."

I shake my head, pushing his hands away. "It's not that," I say. "I...You're hurt."

He smiles. In all my pain, my agony, the feel of my bones twisting, seeing his smile is uplifting. As if a thousand stones were placed upon my frail shoulders, only to be lifted by him. By this angel. When he smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkle. His one dimple is dominant, his laugh lines strong. "Even when you're sick," he murmurs, "You still worry if I'm hurt? Yes, I am hurt. But only because you are. Friends are like that."

I stare at him. Lately, it's all I can do. Stare. Stare at the boy who captured my heart and doesn't even know. Hearing the word friends makes my heart hurt. The word feels bitter in my ears, I fight the urge to cover them with my bruised hands. "What happened to you?" I say, ignoring his statement earlier.

He coughs, looking away. "Nothing."

"If you're hurt, so am I," I say, smiling sadly.

"I was looking for you."

There's a slight silence in the room. The night is completely still. Out the smallest window imaginable, I can see the moon. The moon, the only thing that I can see. It's in a crescent shape tonight, but it's still full and bright in my eyes. 

"What made you go into the forest?" he says.

I force my eyes away from the window, to look back at him. Scars, or not, he is my moon. He is my angel. "I saw someone. Must've been my imagination."

That's how I spend the last night I ever had at the resort. In a hospital bed, simply talking to the boy I am pretending to date. The next morning, the nurse comes into the room, our luggages behind her. "You two are going home."

The bus ride back is silent. There's only two of us, in a completely empty bus that should be filled with students. Instead, two kids sit side by side. I sit by the window, couting the snowflakes as they pass by, Myungsoo next to me. Naturally, he falls asleep. If we were in a drama, I would rest my head on his shoulder and we would sleep together. I would love him, and miraculously, he would love me back. But this is not a drama, or a book, or a movie. This is reality, and in reality, two people hardly ever fall for each other at the same time.

As he sleeps lightly, I can only do what I do best. Stare at him, and imagine how comfortable his shoulder would have been to sleep on. How soft the tickle of his hair would lightly brush against my forehead. I lean my head against the hard, cold, glass window. If I open my eyes, I can see snow falling gently. But they stay closed, until the hours are up.

We step out together, walking and dragging our luggages home. "No school for two weeks," he says, stretching. "I can finally sleep."

I laugh, and it's so childish and shrill that I shock myself. "You sleep too much, anyway."

Our chatter continues all the way home, when the pristine mansion comes into view, and my small house beside it, I am prepared to say goodbye to Myungsoo. But the closer we get, the clearer the person waiting beside the mailbox is. We are a few centimetres away when realisation hits me like a bullet. The handle of my luggage falls off my hand.

Beside me, I can feel L stiffen. The girl stands with as much grace as a ballerina. She is tall, but not as tall as Myungsoo. Her dress is hitched up to mid-thigh, a semi-formal Prada gown that probably costs more than all my clothes put together. Her thin legs are so long, they look as though they go on forever. She wears crystal clear heels, like Cinderella. And her face; oh her face. She is so beautiful, so stunning, that the pictures did not do her justice. Her soft brown hair that once appeared to be chopped short, now fall in straight waves down to her waist. "Long time no see, Myungsoo," she says, smiling.

"Yunji Noona," he breathes. 
 

sorry i haven't updated in ages. I hope you are all happy and healthy, and I wish you all the best for the new year! <3 

wow, this had like, all the drama packed into it. gosh. sorry, i kept listening to depressing music :3