The past
Love AgainHoseok and Yoongi exchange looks.
“You know each other?” They ask in sync.
“We know each other?” I repeat the question.
“We know each other,” Namjoon answers.
“They know each other!” Girls gossip not-so-excitedly at their own tables.
Huh? I stare at my bowl of macaroni soup and feel a sudden loss of appetite. My gaze shifts to the carrot lying on my tray, the same cube Namjoon took off my spoon just now. How is there anyone on this Earth who knows I don’t eat carrots? Even my parents don’t know I don’t eat carrots. I don’t even pick at my carrots now. How else can Nam-
“Namjoon?”
“Yeah?” He looks at me hopefully. Had I accidentally said his name out loud?
Namjoon, Kim Namjoon. Namjoon, Joon. Joon, Jjun. “Jjun…?” Old memories are slowly coming back to me.
“Finally, you remember!” A smile breaks onto Namjoon’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re Jjun?” I ask hesitantly, my eyes narrowed at him. But Jjun moved to the States some ten years ago. “I thought you said you weren’t coming back.”
“Dad came back for business,” he explains, his dimply smile never fading. “We’re staying permanently now.”
Silence spreads throughout the table and as if sensing the awkwardness, Hoseok clears his throat. “I’m going to get food,” he says before leaving the table with Yoongi. Still staring at the carrot, I say nothing.
“You look different,” Namjoon breaks the ice first.
“It’s been ten years.”
“I’ve missed you.” His words prompt me to look up at him.
I try to think of an appropriate response but all that comes out of my mouth is, “I eat my carrots now.”
“You do?” Namjoon smiles again. “You’ve all grown up now, Ser.”
I sigh. “It’s been ten years.” Then, deciding that I cannot stand this anymore, I bring my tray over to the return counter and head straight for the exit.
“Wait, Ser!” Namjoon jogs after me and follows me out, leaving a confused Hoseok and Yoongi at the table. I cringe at his childhood nickname for me.
Jjun – Namjoon – and I used to be inseparable as kids, mostly because I wouldn’t leave his side. Only Jjun would know but my parents have never been on good terms. Every time they fought, I would run out of the house to look for Jjun – he was like the elder brother I never had. Jjun practically became my only family then. He would eat my carrots and give me his sausages whenever we had lunch at the kindergarten. He would blow on my wound and tell me it’ll be okay every time I fell at the playground. Heck, he would even bring me home on days my mum forgot about because I was too directionless to go home on my own.
My mind involuntarily brings up fond memories of Jjun and me walking back from kindergarten, hand-in-hand like a little couple. Everyone around us thought we would grow up to be a real couple, love into the sunset and eventually get married and all that. But then one day, Jjun’s father received an opportunity to work in the States. Higher position and higher pay, the adults had been talking. I didn’t know then but for his family, it was the right thing to do accepting the offer. I remember that midnight Jjun came to my house and threw stones at my windows. I came down to meet him in my pyjamas, in the cold, only to hear him say he’d be gone by sunrise. He’s going to some other country far away, he said. His daddy had told him they’re never coming back, he said. I’d stayed outside crying until my tears were frozen and every bone in my then little body ached from the sharp chill. I went back into the house only because my dad had come outside and I was too weak to resist when he carried me in. Inside, still freezing with only a blanket wrapped around me, I received the longest scolding I’ve ever received in the short eight years of my life.
It hadn’t really hit me that he was gone until that morning when I woke up for school. I’d waited for hours outside my house but Jjun never came by to go to school with me. I faked an illness that day and when I went to school – alone – the next day, our teacher broke news to the class that Jjun is already in the States. I’ve never felt more alone than when I was sitting on the swings with no one to push me. I had to pick out my own carrots, clean up my own wounds, and find my own way home. I remember how I got so fed up digging for carrots I ended up eating them all. Antiseptic cream? I washed my wounds with soap and water and left it to heal on its own. And… what was home when I had no family left? My parents divorced and I was left in the care of my mum who never really cared much about me in the first place. I learnt to take care of myself and in the process isolate myself from the world. Friends? I don’t need such people – I can befriend my own self.
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A/N: Short info chapter to intro some background.
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