Chapter 2; "Smile."

I dislike people and people related things. You know, social gatherings, oral presentations, crowds, job interviews, parties and all that kind of crap. Something about people draws me away from them. I'm socially inept, if you really want to know. I can't even talk properly with someone as simple as the cash register person, let alone my own family. That's how extremely bad it is. I can never keep a decent conversation with anyone, and ninety-eight percent of the time, I get so nervous that I end up spouting nonsense and embarrassing myself in front of people.

I don't know. Maybe it's because I always feel disconnected to the people around me. It's complicated, like, I really want to have a meaningful conversation with someone that doesn't sound as if there's a huge wall between us. I always have it with Jongup. I don't really know how to explain it — I just despise it. I don't know if I'd somewhat angered him or anything, or if maybe he's just annoyed at all the random nonsense I keep spewing out of nowhere.

"Have you watched the latest series last night?" I asked. Truthfully, I was very excited about it.

"Yeah," Jongup answered. He was sitting on the table; studying for his exams that wasn't coming until a month later. "It was interesting."

"What did you think about the new character? I think she's a bit suspicious. Did you see her? She was so subtle. I could see her intentions from kilometres away even without my glasses."

He didn't pause or even bothered to look up from his work. "Hm, true."

"I think it was a really exciting new episode. It got me really pumped for the next one, y'know?" I continued, but I suddenly didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Same." He sounded very uninterested.

I started to feel very uncomfortable, so I left the room without saying anything else. I didn't talk to him for a long while after that. I was just really sad.

Sometimes, I just think it's better to say nothing at all than say something that pisses other people off. I'm not generally a quiet person. I try to be, and it's difficult. I'm the type that always has a comment on every single thing I see. But that's why I try so hard not to say anything, because in the end, I always end up hurting somebody else. I'm not charismatic, I'm not witty, I can't tell a joke, and I'm definitely not funny. My being is already enough to piss everyone off; I don't need to give them any more reason to.

I really can't understand anyone. Nobody makes sense to me, and most of the people who do make sense to me don't even make sense almost half of the time. Sometimes, I just really want to disappear. And I don't mean that I want to commit suicide, mind you. Though, the thought does come up sometimes. The thing is, I'm too much of a chicken to do it. So I probably won't be doing it this time around.

There was this one person in my first year of high school. I don't really know who he was and I doubt I'll ever known who he is. I know his name though, Himchan. I think it's a really nice name. It suits him. Anyway, he was the school president back then. At least, I think he was. I'm not entirely sure.

I felt so low that time. I can't exactly remember what catalysed my sudden depression. I don't really want to know. The thing was, he noticed how grim I was just by walking past. Usually people who observe these sort of thing don't do anything, much less approach a person who they've never met before. But he did. He passed by me, and said one word that made me stop for a second. "Smile" he said; before he disappeared into the crowd. That was the last time I ever saw him again. It wasn't anything special, really, because I kept moping about what I was so depressed about even when I got home. But I was grateful, you know? It's something that comes up in my mind every once in a while.

"I want to go to Antarctica and do penguin sledding."

Youngjae snorted. "Isn't that from a television show?"

"So what?" I snapped. I was rather irritated that day.

He merely shrugged. "Nothing, really." He didn't say anything for a while, as if he was thinking about something. "Why Antarctica and penguin sledding?"

"Because even if it's really, really cold and even if you might get sick or die from pneumonia, it's really, really nice and comforting, and you're all alone in the big snow with only the penguins and maybe the seals and a few birds here and there... And a few scientists."

"That sounds lonely."

"Not really?" I offhandedly said. "I think it's quite nice. You can do anything you want and no one's out there to cause any problems for you." 

He suddenly went quiet, his lips tightly shut as he gazed out into the open with a very sad look in his eyes. It was a very familiar look to me, one that I've learnt to always stop talking whenever it happened. I can never really grasp what he's thinking, and this was one of those many times where I extremely fail to understand what's truly going on in his head and where I truly wished that I understood him. I wanted to desperately talk to him about it because he looks so removed from himself, as if he was somewhere out of reach. In the end, I never asked him about it. I was too scared. Pathetic, really.

I held onto his sleeve, though. I think it counted as something. I don't know. I wasn't as comfortable as he was with physical contact, and I was scared that he'd get angry if I held on to him all of a sudden. I like to think I helped a little — with whatever that was bothering him — because he looked a bit better and moved my hand towards his own. I held onto it tightly despite him complaining about how cold my hand was. I tried to joke about it — bluffing that I was a vampire and all — but he only shook his head and said nothing. 

Clearly, my sorry attempt to cheer him up wasn't enough.

My mother's nice, but she nags a lot and she's very fastidious and finicky whenever it comes to cleaning. My parents aren't bad. They're hard-working people. I just don't like it when they contradict themselves, like when they tell me that I could choose any subject that I want when their expectations are so overt about me becoming some renowned doctor or scientist or something. It pisses me off. My dream had always been to become an artist, like an illustrator or something, but my father was adamantly against it. He seems to have this idea that all artists are inadequates who live under the basement of their parents' house. Even though he had slightly altered his perspective and viewed it as an acceptable hobby, he doesn't want me pursuing it as a career. My mother was more subtle about it. She'd talk about different career options like biomedicine and paediatrics. Yes, subtle. 

She once interrogated me about what I wanted to do in the future, and had the goddamn nerve to cry when I kept repeatedly answering "I don't know". It was funny because I ended up crying myself. Partly because I felt guilty and partly because I really and truly felt lost. We never brought up the subject again, but I hear her talking to my father about it sometimes. I try not to think about it too much.

"I'll take you to Antarctica."

I glared at him. I thought he went insane when he said that one. "You're not serious, are you? Just because I want to go doesn't mean I really, really want to go."

"No way." He saw my incredulous look as a chance to tap me on the forehead. The bastard. "We both live off our parents' income and planning the entire thing is too troublesome. I'm taking you to somewhere similar, not really."

I stared at him. He stared at me. I stared at him until he gradually started fidgeting and turning red.

"T-That's if you want to. I'm not going to force your or anything. It'd be nice if you did."

I shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing my hands together without looking up from the ground. Really, the whole idea sounded exhausting and expensive. A gigantic problem because I'd splurged everything from my allowance a few months ago. Not to mention that I felt too goddamn tired to feel like travelling anywhere. 

"I don't know." His face immediately fell when I admitted it. "I-I'll think about it, yeah?"

"That's fine. No problem," was his hurried reply.

He was straining a smile — I mean — he sounded fine but his whole expression completely betrayed him. You can see why I get pissed at him sometimes. He tries too hard to smile even when it's completely obvious that he was upset.

It really wasn't a big deal if I didn't go where he wanted me to go, really. It'd be less baggage on our shoulders. But somehow — for some unspoken reason — it mattered to him a lot. I still can't figure why it did, though. He was just like that. I mean, he talks a lot about anything and everything except the things regarding himself. You know, what's important to him, what his dreams are, what makes him angry, and all that kind of stuff. He never does. He's secretive. I shouldn't be the one to talk though, because I was similar to him, in a way. Feelings are really awkward subjects to talk about. It was both an unspoken and mutual agreement between us.

I didn't want to go. I was dead set on it. But I took one glanced at his face and started remembering when he'd always bring food with him or how he'd put up with my foolishness or how he'd lift my head up whenever I was depressed. 

The first thing that happened when I got inside the train was getting shanked by some cranky old lady. Youngjae, like the bastard he was, laughed at the whole ordeal as if he was watching some skit on the TV. It goddamn depressed the living hell out of me, so I goddamn ignored him for the rest of the ride; even when he tried apologising and tried to placate me with some bread. Really, he should've known better. The crowd was already enough to make me nauseous. He could've at least helped me cope or something. It was only until we'd arrived that I finally stopped pretending that I couldn't see him. 

It was extremely cold, to the point where I was shivering despite the layers and layers of clothing I wore. It wasn't too bad though. I mean, I could handle it. The place wasn't much. There were a few trees here and there, and there was this frozen lake in the middle where about five people were lingering about. It was extremely warm and welcoming, nonetheless. You would know when you experience it yourself.

Youngjae kept tugging me towards the frozen lake. His efforts were proven futile as I kept on tugging towards the opposite direction  — because I was too paranoid that it'd break and we'd fall and die or drown or something. Really, I sometimes don't know why he always looked like a kicked puppy whenever I refused to do things out of my comfort zone. At least he didn't force me to do them — but come on! He was just as bad as Jongup at making me feel like crap. 

He decided to show me a tour, instead. And we had fun wandering around the area and peeking inside the small, little cottages. We got bored of that after a while, and so we went back to where we came from. I thought we were both going back to the frozen lake, but he lead us to this igloo where we chilled and talked about random things. The stars, the ocean, an annoying acquaintance in high school, that poorly done live-action adaptation of a book... And so on and so forth. I don't know what happened then, or why I suddenly felt so tired and sad and incredibly weary. Or why I was suddenly crying or why my chest ached so much as if something sharp was painstakingly squeezing the hell out of it. Youngjae didn't say anything. Not even when I leaned my head against his back. I didn't need him to. I didn't even need him to do anything for me. His presence was already enough.

I didn't realise until later on that he was suffering on the inside as much as I was. The difference between us — other than him being better at hiding it than I was — was that he actually did everything he could to live his life.

Blind and selfish...

I wasn't worth it.

Even to this day, I still don't understand love, not even the word itself no matter how many times I look it up on the dictionary or no matter how many times I've been bombarded with the concept throughout high school and middle school. To be frank, I believe that most of those kids weren't in love — most of them misinterpreting their own feelings — and loved the idea of being in love instead. If someone were to ask me if I liked someone, I'd say "I do", and if they asked if I loved someone, I'd say "I don't know" because I really don't. I can't even say it properly to my own family and friends without it sounding like a joke. I'd answer that I think about them, though; and I often feel pretty crap whenever I'm useless in a particular situation or if I do something wrong. I'm not sure about my feelings about Youngjae either, but I do know that I think about him and that I feel crap whenever I couldn't do anything for him, which was most of the time.

I've never met Daehyun. Youngjae's friend, I mean. I saw him though — if that counts — at least, I thought it was him. I was walking aimlessly around when I saw the two of them. Daehyun was talking, looking incredibly pissed at something. I don't know. I wasn't near enough to hear their conversation. It was weird, though. Youngjae looked cold; almost apathetic as if he was exhausted of everything around him.

I couldn't exactly describe what I felt then. I couldn't breathe. My chest hurt and I suddenly felt the urge to cry. It felt different, yet so familiar, like the times when my father got incredibly pissed and he'd start shouting and yelling at all the mess ups I've done. 

That was when I realised that I was scared. So scared to the point where I just simply left.

He didn't show up for a very long time. It was rather unusual. I mean, I thought I'd feel some sort of relief or something, but I ended up feeling really hollow and empty. He didn't show up for a week. I didn't realise back then that he might've been hurt because I didn't show up on that particular day that I chickened out when I saw him with Daehyun. I'm a real hypocrite, you know? I kept trying to push him away, and then when he's finally gone, I get really upset and depressed for no goddamn reason.

I really wished I hadn't been so selfish and inconsiderate. I was so, so angry — and when you're angry, you tend to forget about a lot of things. It's like your mind being blindfolded, your thoughts are hazy and you act impulsively without thinking of the consequences. 

I stopped going to that place. 

Two can play at this game, I remember thinking. I was so goddamn angry that I didn't realise that he came back. He waited. He waited for three goddamn weeks before I finally showed up. I didn't show up exactly, I happened to be walking by after being lectured by my father. He was sitting on that bench, looking dishevelled and pale as if he'd been sitting there the entire time. He looked so lifeless and dead. I couldn't even bear to look at him. There were bags under his eyes — and his fingers, that were loosely holding onto a plastic bag — were sickeningly blue and frozen.  

I'm a terrible person...

I couldn't even say the simple words of 'I'm sorry'.