The Seat Across From Hers

Park Bom was never one for new beginnings. She loathed having to recreate a planned out fantasy, and absolutely despised the idea of starting anew. It wasn’t for any lack of self-expression or those ‘I-hate-the-world-and-everyone-in-it’ moments, rather, Bom simply hated having to pretend that her family picking up everything they had from Maine to merrily make their way back to Korea was a happy occurrence.

It most certainly was not.

Bom loved her life in Maine. She had great friends, a loving boyfriend – now former, due to her family’s move back to her home country – and a brilliant life. She’d planned out everything she wanted to do after she graduated from high school; get into Berkeley, finish her Bachelor’s there, work a little – and if onerous hustling and effort permitted – pursue her Masters at Julliard in New York.

Oh, how she resented her parents for taking away the future she had so meticulously planned.

“Feeling excited about your first day?” Her mom asked from the front seat of the car as she drove her to school.

She scoffed. “What do you think?”

“Bom . . .” Her mother warned, giving her a stern look in the rearview mirror. “You know neither your dad nor I wanted his retrenchment. This is not our fault, please stop taking it out on us.”

“You just uprooted me from everybody I know and love, Mom, without at least seeking my opinion!” She cried out, throwing her arms in the air. “You took away everything that I cherished by moving me here. I didn’t want for Dad to lose his job either but don’t you think it’s a little too much that you’re forcibly shifting your daughter from the place she spent her reformative years in? Why does Go Eun unnie get to stay in Maine but not me?”

Her mother pulled the car to an immediate, screeching stop. “Enough! You are going to go to school, put up a smile, and use your birth language for the first time in ages. This was what your father and I thought is best for you, and you will go through with it whether you like it or not!”

Bom bit her lip. “You’re lying to yourself if you don’t think this is the least bit unfair to me. I was so close to graduation, Mom, yet you and Dad had to it all up by bringing me here. Thanks for that.”

She eyed the tall building with her new school’s label clearly printed in golden encryptions on its front from the inside of the car, giving it the best stink eye she could muster. Before her mother could respond, Bom pushed the door open and rushed outside, ignoring the crowd of students who immediately whirled around to gape at the new addition to their student body.

From the way they pointed and stared at her, Bom knew for certain her senior year was now, inevitably, shot to absolute .

-TSAFH-

One tumultuous week later found Bom trudging her way to the library during her lunch break, carrying a small notebook and a couple of worksheets to keep her occupied during the limited thirty minute lunchtime the school offered the students.

Plopping down on the same table she’d discovered from the previous week, half-hidden from sight, she set out to finish up the designated homework from her morning classes.

Such had been the way Bom ran her life ever since arriving at Seoul Academy of Fine Arts. Though it was a school with its foundation solely based on music, performing arts and the like, it still had academic standards to live up to. Being an aspiring musician, Bom found their curriculum a little restrictive and dreary, with no room for further creative expansion.

Her parents only indulged in her passion for music to get her to shut up, laughing off her interest as if she was out of her mind and treated their youngest daughter as a person would to a baby who wanted candy.

The other classes like Calculus and Science, she could handle with much ease – she had been taking every advanced placement subject back in Maine, so she was inherently ahead of their syllabus.

The teachers who were undertaking Bom’s classes found her to be a prodigy, amazed by how quickly she could catch up with their academic standards. Some even proclaimed her to be steadily rising to the top, befuddled as they were by her musical and academic prowess.

However, the student body, on the other hand, preferred to glower at their newest member. Bom lost count of the number of times she’d caught someone whispering telltale lies about herself, and she honestly didn’t care much.

She just wanted to get the hell out of the school, leave the country, and pursue her lifelong dream of studying at Berkeley.

“Mind if I sit here?” A quiet voice, low and almost muted, asked her from out of the blue, interrupting her thought processes.

Bom jolted, giving a startled gasp as she whirled to face the boy.

He was adequately tall with a lean frame, eyes the color of hazelnut and mouth slightly pursed. He had high cheekbones and black hair sleeked back in a neat and formal hairstyle, emphasizing the perfect arch of his facial structures.

And he was staring right at her, one hand on the chair opposite her in hesitant trepidation, waiting for her response.

She gulped, ignoring the way her heartbeat skipped a little when his hazel eyes never left hers.

She never had the opportunity to practice her Korean conversational skills, though growing up, her parents had sent her and Go Eun to Hangul classes hoping to bestow upon their children the knowledge of their native tongue.

Unsteady but never unfaltering, she nodded, “Sure.”

He was holding on to a red notebook, its title barely tangible enough to decipher. Bom tried not to let her busybody-self nose her way into his personal business, but was increasingly failing to do so.

The boy chuckled as he sat down in front of her, noticing her preoccupation with his notebook. “It’s my song-writing book – I write lyrics down in here when they get too loud in my head to ignore.”

She nodded, completely understanding his predicament, the words flowing more naturally now. “Me too; but I sing them out, though.”

“You’re a singer?” He questioned, leaning in and peering at the Biology notes she was making. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

Bom blushed, gathering her papers away from his seeking eyes. “I’m doing both, actually.”

“You’re not from around here, aren’t you?” He gave a bright, gummy smile, and she had to admit – this boy was cute. 

It was probably her mispronunciation of certain syllables that tipped him off. “I’m from Maine, USA.”

“Ah,” he nodded intelligently. “The great America.”

“Not so great when you think about it; there’s some stigma against people of color, it’s a little racist and liberated but the people are kind and welcoming.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Unlike here.”

It was frightening how he managed to catch on to her subtle hinting so quickly.

She shrugged, trying to coolly play it off.

“Made any friends?” The boy smiled again, attempting to diffuse the awkward tension that had slithered its way between them. “What with a pretty girl like you, I’m sure you must’ve caught the attention of a couple people here in our academy.”

It was Bom’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Haven’t you been paying any attention to whatever we just spoke about?”

He chuckled, leaning back, raising his hands up in mock surrender. “Just curious. I’m surprised with how well you’re speaking Korean; most foreigners who come to our school have a difficult time conversing with the rest of us.”

“I was born here, actually,” Bom looked away, fiddling with her pen in slight discomfort. “Then my family moved to the US where I basically grew up and spent most of my years there. Afterwards, my parents decided that America wasn’t exactly cut out for them, and they returned here with me in tow, leaving my sister back in Maine so she could finish her degree.”

She had no idea what compelled her to speak to the boy about her troubles, as mundane as they might seem. Perhaps it was the way he seemed thoroughly invested with her story or the manner in which he leaned in and refused to let his eyes leave her face, growing animated with every word she said.

The boy pursed his lips, subconsciously frowning. “You don’t like it here.”

Another statement.

Bom was seriously terrified of how easy it was for him to see through her.

“I left all my best friends back home. My boyfriend, whom I’d been seeing for over four years, broke up with me because we knew it in our guts we couldn’t ever have made our relationship long-distance. All my aspirations, the dreams I had whilst growing up there . . . everything; I had to throw them away to move here.”

The boy sat against his chair, cocking his head to the side as he continued to stare at her with a thoughtful expression on his rather seraphic features.

After a brief pause, he sat up straighter, and Bom could see the metaphorical light bulb switching on dramatically at the top of his head.

“Say, would you sing for me if I asked you to?”

-TSAFH-

Over time, Bom grew to know the boy’s name – Kwon Jiyong, he was called. He was an aspiring rapper, producer and lyricist. Apparently, he was already under a record label and was only going through with high school to get it out of the way. He had another label-mate in the school, a boy named Dong Youngbae, who had a voice so magical Bom couldn’t believe her ears at first when Jiyong had let her listened to a demo his friend had recorded.

They were both ridiculously talented.

She saw the lyrics Jiyong wrote, heard the music he created, and each piece he painstakingly molded was absolutely perfection. His lyrics were heavy and intricate for an eighteen year old, yet incredibly relatable and carrying the angst of a teenager with the right balance of maturity and selfishness.

He was a revolutionary musician in the making, and Bom knew she had to warily wade around Jiyong’s amazing talent if she wanted to be his friend.

Beyond his musical skills, Jiyong was an average student. He had good looks, and she came to learn exactly how popular he was in their school. Eyes followed him wherever he went, whispers resounding in his wake whenever he’d passed by unwitting hordes of cliques in the corridors.

He had chosen to escape in the library for that sole purpose; he didn’t enjoy being in the middle of the spotlight when he hadn’t reached his own personal standard of perfection yet. He strived to constantly become a better person, a better musician, and Bom watched in silent awe every time he’d sit across from her and write incessantly in his little red notebook.

Of course, she noticed how sometimes he’d look up at her, and she’d look away in embarrassment, pretending as if there was something above his head that interested her.

He was her only friend; with her status as an academic and musical prodigy, the student body soon became jealous and refused to even speak to her. Bom didn’t really mind it but it was a little unsettling whenever they had to do a group project and she would be the only one left without companions, forcing the teachers to either stick her with classmates who didn’t want her, or allow her to work solo.

It was a nasty little problem, and Bom lamented the fact that she had no classes with him to resolve her issues.

Anything beyond their library meetings were nonexistent, though. Jiyong had a whole other life outside of the cozy corner they shared in the library. He was regaled as a genius, rivalling any current idol group that was presently on the market.

Rumors had also begun spreading that he was in talks to debut soon, and Bom was almost certain the goofy boy she knew would soon rise to a higher status.

But she tried her best to pay all this no mind – at the end of the day, all Bom ever wanted was to simply graduate with honors and get the hell out of the hellhole she called school.

-TSAFH-

It turned out that Jiyong did debut, but it wasn’t solo like what she’d anticipated.

Instead, he debuted with his friend Youngbae in the trendy group BIGBANG. Word about the rookie idol group spread like wildfire amongst the teenagers in South Korea; their faces were everywhere, names of each member ricocheting up to high levels of recognition the minute their latest single, ‘Lies,’ became a smash hit with the general public.

It was Jiyong’s composition, all of it had been his hard work ed upon one single song. Their debut single hadn’t been much of a success, and Bom had seen less of him when it was announced they would be debuting. After a while, when it became clear BIGBANG was way too ahead of its time to introduce such concepts in the relatively celibate world of K-Pop, Jiyong returned to their library meetings.

She felt it selfish of her to secretly wish for their lack of success just so she could continue to see him like before – it became clear that she had grown a crush on him, and try as she might, it was near impossible to quell her one-sided love.

Then, of course, when ‘Lies’ came out, BIGBANG rose to a musical level so high that their group was on every billboard and advertisement. Jiyong’s credibility of being a producer skyrocketed, and critics everywhere were admiring his craft.

Bom watched as her good friend’s absence from school grew longer, and the seat across from hers remained unused.

She felt a little betrayed; couldn’t he at least said goodbye? Maybe a little note apologizing for leaving her hanging?

But she knew it wasn’t his fault.

Jiyong was now simply someone who she had grown fond memories with. She would come to realize, in time, that he too, would become something she would forget in her later years, and only look back when she would reminisce what little time she spent in Korea.

-TSAFH-

On the day of her graduation, Bom was buzzing with unadulterated excitement. The day before, she had gotten her letter from Berkeley, and with shaking hands she had opened it.

They had accepted her on a fully subsidized scholarship, citing her perfect grades and amazing audition tapes, which she’d sent on an expensive express mail to the university, to be the main factors of her acceptance.

She was undoubtedly thrilled that finally, finally, she could go back home.

For old time’s sake, Bom had gone back to the library, giving the librarian a small gift for allowing her continued use of its facilities. The old lady had grinned knowingly, congratulated the newly registered Berkeley undergraduate, and ushered her in for a final tour of the library.

When she rounded the corner to visit the table she spent hours upon hours of lunch breaks carefully writing notes and studying, Bom was surprised to see a familiar face sitting in the seat that had long ago been abandoned by its previous owner.

There, Jiyong sat, his red notebook in one hand and a single rose in the other.

He looked different; no longer wiry or skin and bones. He had put on some weight, most of it being muscles though his face maintained the tenderness he had possessed a year ago. His posture was a lot different too, and he sat with much regal and confident authority that Bom was sure he had harnessed over the months he was exposed to the glutinous entertainment industry that thirsted for him.

He looked up, hearing her entrance, and those gorgeous hazel eyes of his glowed with sheer happiness that her heart begun thudding painfully once again.

“Bom!” He gave a small cheer, standing up as if to greet her. “You’re here!”

She gave a small smile. “So are you. What brings you back, oh Famous One?”

“Couldn’t miss my graduation day.” Jiyong chuckled, drawing closer to her as he continued to give a small smile.

Picking up the red rose he had kept beside his book, he sauntered shyly over to where Bom stood, rigid with shock when he raised it slowly in front of her. “This is for you.”

She could see the blush on his cheeks reflecting her own, and struggled to maintain a cool façade as she accepted his gift. “Thank you.”

They were thrown into another, exceedingly awkward moment, whereby neither of them knew exactly what to say. After another excruciating minute of silence, Jiyong cleared his throat, taking a step closer and nearly pressing Bom against the library shelf.

He grew taller, she thought, noting the way how the crown of her head barely brushed against his chin.  

“I couldn’t graduate without at least doing this.” With that final proclamation, Jiyong swooped down, grabbed ahold of Bom’s cheek, and kissed her like his life depended on it.

She couldn’t even begin to describe the sensation of his lips on hers.

It was incredible; how they moved together in complete synergy, an absolute harmonious synchronization that allowed him to take lead as she reciprocated numbly. The pleasure, bafflement and utter adoration coursing through her veins at that moment took her breath away, leaving her wanting more from the kiss and dangerously pleading for it to last longer.

He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing himself closer to Bom when he wrapped a strong arm around her waist.

She gasped, letting her head accidentally hit against the shelf, causing a couple of books to drop onto the floor.

“!” She muttered, pulling away from his intoxicating lips.

Laughing, she wretched herself out of his grip to pick up the fallen books, peeking around the corner to ensure the librarian hadn’t noticed their little display. As she placed them back on the shelf, she felt Jiyong’s arms wrap themselves securely around her waist, his face burying in the crook of her neck as his chest pressed against her back.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do that since the day I stumbled onto you.” He murmured into her skin, leaving goosebumps with his hot breath fanning across it. “Every day, I’d look at you and think, “What wouldn’t I give to be able to kiss this girl, to have this girl?” I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his proclamation, threatening to stop doing so altogether when the words he’d spewed registered in her mind.

“You love me?” She gripped his rose, twisting so she could face him.

“I do.” He vowed, jerking his head back enough to stare deep into his eyes. “And if you would permit me, I’d continue doing so until you tell me to stop.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic.” She teased, reaching up to his ebony cheek. “Adorable, but cheesy.”

He smirked. “Does this mean you’ll let me?”

She gulped, uncomfortably looking away. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of his arms, looking anywhere but his penetrating eyes as she struggled to get the words out.

Finally, she mustered what little courage she had, stood fully straight, and faced him head on. “I’m leaving, Jiyong. I got accepted into Berkeley, and my flight’s tomorrow.”

She watched as all light vanished from his face, his eyes the picture of ruined happiness at her news. His mouth, slightly red from their passionate kiss, turned down with displeasure and his eyebrows knitted together in agony.

“I loved you,” she continued, hands reaching up to grasp his in desperation. “I still do. But this – us – we’re not going to be able to make it into the long distance.”

“Is that what you said when you ripped your ex-boyfriend’s heart out?” He spat, throwing her hands away from him. “Is that your excuse for ripping mine out?”

She scowled, feeling the hot tears b about in her eyes. “Please, Jiyong, I–”

“Save it.” He turned away from her. “I don’t need to hear anything anymore.”

Bom cried, feeling the biggest part of herself rip itself into shreds as she watched Jiyong walk away from her, shoulders slumped and feet dragging. She wanted to run and hug him, to tell him just how much she loved the boy she met a year ago but knew that there was no way they would ever have a shot.

He was meant for superstardom.

Suddenly, the future she had planned out reverently for herself no longer seemed all that perfect. All that was left in the void of her abandoned self, lonesome and heartbroken, was the image of the girl she once was before she met Kwon Jiyong.

She wiped her tears on her blazer sleeve, uncaring for the mascara that smeared onto its pristine navy blue. As she patted her pockets for a tissue, a glimpse of red caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

It was Jiyong’s songbook.

He had forgotten to take it with him as he walked away.

Stumbling over her feet, she reached out for it, feeling its rough edges with the tips of her fingers. She trailed them over his signature, his handwriting that was so scrawny it was almost laughable. Patting it slightly, she contemplated for a long while before picking it up and stuffing it in her book bag, unwilling to let it go for even an instant.

If Jiyong would take the memories she had shared with him, then she should at least be entitled to the book she had so lovingly watched him write into all those months ago.

Bom held the rose tighter to her chest, feeling her heart break a little more as she tried to regain control over her wayward emotions.

She closed her eyes.

I love you, Kwon Jiyong.

And let him go.

-TSAFH-

Jiyong’s fame grew exponentially bigger in the ten years that had passed since their fateful encounter.

Going by his stage name, G-Dragon, the dorky boy who she had loved with all her heart grew up to be a proud man worthy of his status. He had excellent charisma and stage presence, his name quickly becoming a household and internationally acclaimed one. Jiyong had grown to be the superstar Bom always knew he would be, and together with his merry band, they were critically renowned and a group that transcended the traditional limitations of the Korean music industry, spawning millions of dedicated fans worldwide.

As for her, she quietly enrolled in Berkeley, leaving her parents in the dust as they criticized her refusal to conform to their standards of success – which required a medical, law or financing degree. She may not be a singer nor aspire to be one, but she most certainly loved music beyond any doubt.

After graduating magna laude, Bom was accepted into Julliard in New York, and packed her bags to the city that never slept in hopes of finally reaching her old dream. There, she bumped into her old high school boyfriend who studied in Brown University, and they hit it off intrinsically well.

She never forgot Jiyong, however. How could she, when his face was on every advertisement and commercial there was? So popular he had grown that there wasn’t a passing day without her hearing about him either on the news or by her peers in the lecture halls.

She loved Jiyong, and probably always would, but he was a part of her that had died since the day she left Korea in pursuit of her bigger, broader dreams.

It didn’t help that her boyfriend had never once treated her anything less than the wonderful woman she had grown to become. He cherished her, loved her with every bit of his soul, and Bom felt a little resentful of the fact that she would never love him with the same fiery passion that she once had for Jiyong.

He knew, of course, and still accepted her for it.

So when he asked her to marry him, halfway through her second year in Julliard amidst her cooking dinner for the two of them – they had been living together for a year – she said yes.

Because he was comfortable.

He didn’t promise intense waveforms of passion and intimacy. He didn’t make any vows or declarations of a forever love but all the same he pledged a future that was faithful and loyal only to her.

He wasn’t Jiyong but nonetheless, Bom found herself saying yes because in spite of all the bravado she had for the superstar, she knew he had long forgotten about a lost high school love.

Such was her mindset as she entered the usual diner she visited after work. A Broadway production hoping to reenact Barbara Streisand’s Funny Girl with fresh new stars and a whole new crew had heard of Bom’s talented work with other productions.

Roped in by her ability to inject high amounts of musical brilliance into such creations, they offered her an internship, so that she may finish the few months that remained of her senior year at Julliard yet work with them all the same.

She loved every minute of it.

From the dazzling spotlights, the actors and actresses with astounding vocal capabilities and the boundless energy that they had each time they rehearsed scenes enraptured the music major.

Bom had found her calling in the world, no matter how unorthodox it might seem to be.

“The usual, babe?” Her favorite server sidled up to her, giving a wide smile as her red curls bounced around her shoulders.

She nodded, returning a grateful smile for the quick service as she slid into her habitual booth. “Just for one tonight, though. The fiancé’s got a meeting with his editor tonight.”

Her server-girl winced in sympathy. “You want to take that out instead?”

Bom shook her head. “And risk not eating for another minimum four hours because of traffic congestion? No, thank you.”

“You got it.” The girl winked, flashing wonderful pearly-whites at her, causing Bom to wonder how on earth such a beautiful girl worked at a somewhat dingy diner.

She tapped her fingers on the table, looking out the window into the busy New York nightlife. She couldn’t exactly say she loved it here, having been far too busy to acknowledge what little life she had in the gigantic City Of Dreams.

She and her fiancé owned a decent apartment, one that was in upper-state New York, thanks to the generosity of his parents. With whatever time they had left from the busy schedule of their current lives, they’d take walks around Grand Central Park – ones that Bom was incredibly fond of – and sometimes would go around in Bom’s decrepit Ford in search of good music, food and company.

New York wasn’t Maine, certainly not, but she found that while she tolerated the city and loved how each individual shone in their respective light, Maine would always be her home.

“So you got a cheeseburger, onion rings and coleslaw on the side, and an iced coffee.” Her server smiled, setting her food in front of her. “Oh, and also, I think you’ve got an admirer.”

Bom chortled, rolling her eyes in jest. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of the engaged woman.”

The food in front of her was mouth-watering, Bom reveling in that fact that she could never get herself to grow sick of the cheeseburger she almost always ate.

“No! I’m serious! That guy’s been staring at you ever since he got here; he and his friends haven’t even looked away from you even once! Look, look, he’s staring at you right now!” The girl nudged her enthusiastically, and Bom nearly dropped her coffee in retribution.

She gave her a minute glower, despising being unable to eat the food that was right in front of her, and humored her favorite server.

Turning to face the direction in which her friend directed her to, Bom felt her insides grow entirely frozen as she caught sight of the man’s familiar outlook.

He was wearing shades and a beanie to disguise his head, scruff growing on his face to hide the world’s number one recognizable features. His lips were slightly open, head tilted to the side and eyebrows raised so high it almost touched the front of his dark gray beanie.

He wore a simple white shirt, covered by a black cardigan that highlighted his toned frame. His once bare, pale skin was littered with an abundance of tattoos, the most prominent one on his arms, showcased by his folding of the cardigan sleeves he wore.

Beside him, unquestionably, were his bandmates, all in different disguises as well. He was surrounded by a few girls she couldn’t quite identify, though why she even bothered doing so went beyond her comprehension.

Jiyong was here, in New York.

He was here.

Her face must have revealed the surprise she felt, for Jiyong abruptly stood, excusing himself from his group of friends, and walked distractedly towards her.

She felt her insides gurgling about in panic, half of her wanting to run away and hide from the oncoming threat of her past love, and the other half – growing louder and immensely bossier by the minute – wanted to stay and let her catch up with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he slid into the seat across from hers, a perfect parallel of the distant memory she had of him all those years ago. He gave a timid grin, as if to silently ask if it was okay for him to do so.

She could see her server-girl discreetly move away, distancing herself so that they could have some privacy.

His smile then grew larger, stretching across his perfect teeth. “Ten years, and you haven’t changed a bit.”

It had been so long since she last conversed with anyone in her mother tongue.

She tested it, hoping that she hadn’t gotten completely rid of the language that now sounded ridiculously foreign in her ears. “You, on the other hand, though . . .”

He laughed, a carefree snicker that warmed the insides of her body. “The perks of being a celebrity, I guess. What have you been up to?”

And so she filled him in on the years since she left, telling him all sorts of stories and misadventures she had wobbled into. She spoke of all the good things and the bad, of her falling out with her parents and sister, of her renewed love with her fiancé.

At the mention of her lover, she couldn’t help but notice his expression faltering, the mask of patient exhilaration fading for a brief second before he patched it back again.

“Marriage, huh,” he eyed the engagement ring on her finger. “That’s a huge step.”

She forced a smile. “We’re taking things slow, not rushing into anything. When it’s time, it’s time.”

He returned her grin, this time conceding a more genuine one. “I see.”

“What about you? Are you seeing someone?” She couldn’t understand why it seemed pivotal to her mental wellbeing to ask this of him.

He scrunched his face up, revealing wrinkles that hadn’t been embedded on his skin when they were still teenagers. “I thought the news pretty much covered everything.”

Bom raised an eyebrow, picking at the remains of her cheeseburger. “I don’t really follow it well.”

“I was in a nasty relationship; it was pretty toxic. I don’t know why it took me five years to break it off with her but eventually I did. Now she’s seeking revenge by spewing crap about me to whatever media outlet would listen.” Jiyong sighed, shoulders slumping into resignation.

The relief that washed over her was rapid but strong, and she refused to look deeper into it, unwilling to succumb to the perilous feelings slowly rising back up.

“What are you doing in New York?” She asked, sipping on her coffee that had turned diluted, and blanched at its distastefulness. “Business or pleasure?”

“A little bit of both, actually.” Bom thought about how good it was to hear his voice speak to her in real life once again, petulantly ignoring the pang in her chest that reminded her of what could’ve been. “We have a concert tomorrow. Will you come watch?”

“Oh, ,” she sighed, “I have work until eleven.”

“Then join us for the next day – I’m sure nobody works on a Sunday, right?” He inquired, and his face was too hopeful for her to reject.

She nodded, reassuring him that she would come. “Just save me a ticket.”

She didn’t want to tell him how Sundays were normally the days she spent with her fiancé roaming listlessly around New York. Sunday was her personal time with him, to speak of their worries for the upcoming week and relish in the victories or losses in the prior one.

Jiyong quirked the side of his lip, his sunglasses shifting down slightly as he tilted his head.

She could feel the burn of his stare even through his dark shades, having to look away before she could throw herself against him. The age-old passion she had felt for him had erupted into a near burning inferno from the embers she had so disparagingly crumbled it into, and her heart beat quicker than it ever did.

You’re engaged! She hissed inside her mind. You should be ashamed of yourself!

“If you want,” Jiyong pressed further, leaning towards her and stealing an onion ring. “You can invite your fiancé too. I can give you VIP access so you wouldn’t have to deal with the crowd.”

Even after ten years, he could still read her like a damn book.

She shook her head vigorously, attempting to dispel his generous offer as well as the unbidden emotions that rioted within the inner workings of her mind. “You don’t have to do this, Jiyong.”

“I insist.” He looked at her, lips pressed into a thin line. “I haven’t seen you for ten years, at least let me make up for abandoning my good friend in her time of need.”

Good friend. Good friend. Good friend. Good friend.

It was nearly laughable how the phrase repeated itself in her mind. Even as they bade their goodbye, with her giving a respectful bow to his friends and their exchanging of phone numbers with each other to keep in touch, the words went on a repetitive loop in the inner workings of her mind.

It was painful, almost severely so.

With a simple sentence, Jiyong had ended whatever romantic history he shared with her, abolishing it as if what they had didn’t mean anything to him.

And perhaps it was better that way, since they both lived very different lives. Their younger selves could have never expected to grow the way they did – Bom for sure hadn’t seen herself working in Broadway – and Jiyong as a teenager only wanted to share his love of music to the world.

She was engaged and he, she was certain now, had a girlfriend who he clearly loved enough to keep a long-term relationship of five years.

There was nothing to return to.

Even if it hurt her to admit, even if her entire being fought against the notion of them not being together, even if her guts told her the opposite, Bom and Jiyong were never meant to be.

She supposed it was always to remain that way.

-TSAFH-

Months had passed after their reconnection.

They often exchanged texts and calls with each other. He’d complain to her about his packed schedule, and she the heavy work load she undertook thanks to her new job after having freshly graduated three months ago and lucky enough to be promptly snapped up.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when she came home early one night from her new Broadway production of West Side Story and saw stilettos that were not hers outside her apartment.

When she entered the dark place and saw the littered clothing, as well as the distant creaks of the bed she had shared with her fiancé, it took everything in her not to go completely ballistic.

She was a grown woman, and she would handle this with as much dignity as she could.

After all, Bom couldn’t condemn him for cheating on her – she had been doing exactly so by never fully reciprocating his feelings. She loved Jiyong with all her heart, and it was only the hopeless romantic in her who dreamed of a white house with a picket fence and two-point-five kids that pushed her to continue a relationship with her first love.

He had sat on the floor, unabashedly watching her pack her things as she prepared to move out, mute and in tormented silence.

“I’m sorry, Bom.” He reached out to her, hand on her shoulder as he stared at her with eyes that spoke volumes of his obvious regret.

“Don’t be.” She shrugged him off. “You love her.”

“And you didn’t love me.”

Bom gazed at the man she had spent so much of her life with, trying to elicit some form of response – betrayal, love, hurt . . . anything that would at least prove that she hadn’t been the heinous beast of a woman she imagined herself to be.

Instead, she felt nothing but remorse for leading the man she had once loved as a pubescent teen into believing that they stood a chance. That, no matter how concise the period of time she fooled herself into having faith that they had a future together, she would always see him as the gallant and wonderful man that he was.

But indefinitely not the man for her.

She took his ring off and gently placed it in the palm of his hand. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Keep it.” He resisted her. “It’s yours.”

“It was never mine. And you know it.”

With those famous last words, she grabbed her duffel bag, and proceeded to walk bravely out the door.

-TSAFH-

When Jiyong heard of their separation, through the winding vines of connections that he had – she could never wrap her mind around the fact that his world was thousands of times bigger than hers – he forewent his time off and personally flew to New York.

It was a pleasant surprise when he came knocking on her temporary apartment door, interrupting her self-declared marathon of How I Met Your Mother.

She had no idea he had arrived in New York then, mouth dropping as he stood, breathless, in front of her with a chagrined look on his face. He was clean shaven, hair askew and an almost blinding shade of blond; clear evidence that he had a project in the works.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he said, wrapping his arms around her, and she broke down right there and then.

She wept for a lost love, for the dreams and hopes she had shared with her former fiancé. She wept because, in spite of her selfishness, she did love the man and would’ve been happily married to him. She sobbed because she knew, rather than being happy, she preferred to be content with the life she lived with him no matter how much her heart ached for the person who was currently crushing her against his lithe body.

She cried for hours, ruining the shirt he wore and staining it with saltwater. The tobacco scent that she could faintly distinguish from his clothes eventually washed out in response to the onslaught of tears that rained upon the fabric.

Bom’s heart felt as though it was getting trampled on over and over again, for the sole reason being that she had been inexplicably disgusting towards her former fiancé.

“It’s okay.” He promised in the aftermath of her episode, her hair as they made their way to her bed, Bom having cried herself to sleep. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

The next morning she woke up to the scent of bacon and eggs, her eyes disallowing her to open fully with the amount of crying she did the night prior. She padded to the kitchen, following the scent of breakfast, and was dumbfounded to catch the sight of Jiyong in the same clothes from the day before cooking.

“What are you doing here?” She wondered aloud, and he whirled around to face her, pan in hand.

He waved a friendly spatula at her, depositing a sunny smile. “Good morning, beautiful!”

She rolled her eyes, ignoring how her heart jumped.

Honestly, she was a twenty-eight year old woman. How she somehow retained the tendencies of a blubbering teenage girl would always remain a mystery to her.

Or maybe it was Jiyong in all his simplicity that caused her to resort back to her inner childlike self.

“What?” He scoffed, flipping eggs onto a plate as he gestured at her to take a seat on the ancient table that came with the dingy apartment. “It’s true; you’re the only girl I know who’ll look pretty even after a meltdown.”

“Stop being stupid.” She blushed fiercely, sitting down and failing to overlook how the circumstance she found herself in seemed purely like marital bliss.

Thanking him for the meal, she scarfed it down, loving the fresh burn she got in the back of . He sat in the seat across from her, once again reminding Bom of the times when he used to do so in the quiet little corner of the library they had first met in.

Suddenly, Jiyong reached out, his thumb wiping across the side of her lip.

She flickered her eyes up, stupefied by the sudden gesture. Little tingles of electricity broke out from where his skin touched hers, and his hazel eyes had never looked more bewitching in the mid-morning sun lighting the side of his face.

He was downright sinful to look at but she still couldn’t bring herself to stop staring at him,

“You had a little ketchup.” He finished lamely, removing his hand from her face and breaking off their eye contact.

She could see the hint of a blush dusting his cheeks, and felt elated that she wasn’t the only one feeling lost in the mess that they were in.

Clearing , she blinked once and gave a frigid smile. “Thanks again for the meal, Jiyong. It was delicious. I have to get going soon for work but if you don’t have anything on, you could come see my production.”

“I would love to.” Jiyong replied, reluctantly meeting her inquiring eyes once again. “But to be honest, I’m a little jet-lagged. I didn’t have time to book a hotel, and I have no luggage; just my passport and wallet.”

She cursed. “You ing idiot! How could you come here without taking at least the bare essentials?! Go and sleep!”

Bom proceeded to usher him into her bedroom, making sure he was tucked in her duvet.

Looking at him rest on her bed, she realized how dark the circles were under his eyes. She concluded that he must’ve stayed up all night watching over her. He looked unwell, bordering on sick, and she realized how futile all her attempts at forgetting Kwon Jiyong was.

She loved him.

She always had.

And always will.

-TSAFH-

She returned that evening with her mind set on telling him the truth.

Whether or not he would accept her, it was up to him. In whatever way he would have her, she would be happy. She couldn’t deny her feelings any longer, and she was just exhausted of constantly depriving herself the happiness she knew she could instill within herself.

Jiyong was the love of her life, and she was planning on telling him just so, regardless of the consequences.

That is, after she got rid of her treacherous heels and briefcase, of course.

The apartment was lit up when she entered it, and she could smell the hint of a fresh shower. She rounded the corridor to see Jiyong sitting up on her sofa, the TV softly in the background. He donned a tank top with sweatpants riding low on his hips, barefoot and clutching the old red notebook she had undeservingly stolen from him.

Upon her entrance, he looked up, a sheer expression of wonder and enlightenment in his clear eyes. “I was looking around for some Aspirin, hoping to relieve some of my jet-lag after I woke up from my nap, when I came across this.”

He lazily waved the red notebook at her.

“You kept it.” He continued, voice rough and disbelieving. “After all this time.”

She twisted the cloth of her shirt in between her right index finger and thumb. “I did.”

Her voice was shaky at best, completely stripped off of her former courage.

“And the flower.” He held it up, a fragile little thing that Bom had pressed into the book to prolong its preservation.

Bristling at how carelessly he seemed to be handling her precious rose, she rushed over to him and nearly tore it out of his hands. “Be careful with that!”

He negligently ignored her warning, twisting his arm so that he could catch her and plop her onto his lap. The notebook and rose that Jiyong had been holding fell to the ground, papers rustling and red petals breaking off as a result.

Blushing vehemently, Bom tried to escape the prison of his arms, the warmth that he was bestowing upon her with his body, and the waves of giddying joy that nearly overpowered her. “What are you doing?!”

He silenced her with his lips, arms gripping her to him and head tilted in the right angle so he could delve deeper into the kiss. He was rough yet gentle, soft but hard at the same time, and Bom found herself responding ardently to the kiss, giving as much as she got.

His lips spoke, I’m sorry I came too late.

His tongue whispered, Beautiful.

Hi ragged breath teased, I love you.

When he pulled away, she was straddling his lap and her eyes were wide with glee, breath short and panting slightly. He stared wildly at her, eyes almost frenzied, and she could see the desire melting those hazel eyes into a near chocolate brown.

“You love me.” He proclaimed.

“You always managed to see through me,” she answered. “Back then and even now, you’ve always seen through anything I’ve ever put up.”

“You love me,” he said again, holding her tighter to him still.

“You were my best friend.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him.

“You love me.” Once more.

“I always thought to myself that Maine was my home, that its jagged, rocky coastline and deep forests were the only place I could ever feel completely free. But then I realized that home was wherever you make it to be; it was never a tangible, physical thing that you could see or touch. You are my home, Jiyong.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, loving the way they zinged when they came in contact with his skin.

He brought both hands to cup her face, pushing slightly so he could properly stare at her, eyes bountiful with enormous love clearly written all over his emboldened face. “You love me.”

She kissed him on his lips. “I never stopped.”

And they descended into the love that was finally, after years of waiting and wanting, theirs.