3.1

GOING, COMING

"But if you're going, I'm coming your way."

Beach Avenue – Coming Your Way

Byulyi wasn't sure how she came to this.

Her morning was a pretty normal one. She woke up early, did a round of exercise, ate breakfast, and walked to her college. She also did well – according to her own judgment – on the exam. So, she wasn't sure what peculiarity could it be that she was now trapped against the book shelf of the library with Jung Wheein's arms blocking the sides of her body.

It was as peculiar as it seemed, because Wheein was shorter than Byulyi, but her gaze was sharp, like one that was half-accusing and half-amused. Byulyi stood there for a couple of seconds in confusion.

"What is it?" She eventually asked, because Wheein's gaze was too piercing that Byulyi wondered if it had bored a hole into her skull.

"You..." Wheein started, palms moving as her fingers brushed against Byulyi's strand of hair that was sticking to her cheek.

Byulyi raked through her brain, trying to search for a possibility of big mistake. But with Wheein at this close proximity, her breath against her chin and her eyes hazel brown, Byulyi found it difficult to breathe. If anything, if she was crazy, she would have thought Wheein would kiss her. But she wasn't, and she knew Wheein wouldn't.

"...come back." Wheein's voice was a lot softer than Byulyi expected. Her gaze softened and suddenly, the brush of her fingers against Byulyi's skin felt too light. Too gentle. Like fallen leaves that grazed against the air. It made Byulyi's breath hitched even more.

Then it all came to her. The party on Saturday night. Her first time smoking. Her first time drinking. Her first time feeling such big urge to kiss someone just because of how ethereal she looked when she was sleeping.

And then the cleaning on the next morning. And the little note she left on Wheein's fridge.

It was a gamble, of course. Byulyi wanted to know. So, she drew the door and the star – the way Wheein always did whenever referring to Byulyi. It was her signature.

Their signature.

"You remember," Byulyi said, half-amazed. She hadn't expected Wheein to remember. All these years, she thought she was the only one with the memory. The only one holding onto it.

Wheein giggled. Byulyi stared, not knowing which part was funny. But then Wheein leaned closer and gave Byulyi's cheek a light peck before stepping backwards, strutting away exiting the library. And Byulyi giggled, too.

After the last day of exam, Yongsun had suggested to watch a movie for the sake of celebration, but Byulyi refused – which gained a consistent pout from the latter. That day, she hadn't seen Wheein at all, and she felt like she had to.

So, instead of going back to her place, she walked to Wheein's house.

Wheein opened the door after the third ring of the bell, with her head peeking outside. When she saw it was Byulyi, she smiled and opened the door wider, welcoming the transfer student in.

"You were absent today," Byulyi said, after plopping down onto Wheein's couch. Wheein made her way toward the kitchen and walked back with two cans of soda in her hands.

"Mhm, I was," She agreed.

Byulyi wanted to ask why, but she didn't. Sometimes, she assumed, when it came to Wheein, she needed not any reason. Just things as they were.

They spent the rest of the evening talking. And Byulyi was never a good talker, so most of the times, she would fixate her gaze on Wheein and tried her best not to get lost in the depth of her brown hazel, or her cute little dimples. Most of other times, Wheein would talk about art, about music she listened to, while bringing out her pack of Marlboro and took a long drag every pause of her sentences.

"When did you start smoking?" Byulyi asked. She was on her second cigarette – she had refused at first, but she had done it once previously and the idea wasn't as scary or as uncertain as it had been anymore. She guessed it was just always natural for things to be easier after the first time.

Wheein lit up another cigarette, letting the lighter burning the wrapper and watched the white paper slowly lighting up in fiery red and eventually black.

"I didn't remember," She said. Byulyi wondered how many things she had forgotten.

"Byul, you came back," Wheein said, more to herself. Her eyes were still on the cigarette before her gaze followed the dancing smoke that escaped from the gap of her lips.

"Why?"

Byulyi secretly there would be no whys. Just the fact that she was there should be enough. But maybe it wasn't for Wheein the way it was for her.

"It was my dream." Byulyi croaked out.

3.2

LITTLE DREAM

"Birds singing in the sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.
Say nighty-night and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me.
While I'm alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me."

Michael Buble – Dream A Little Dream Of Me

Dream was such a tricky word. Children, at the earliest of their days, were taught to have one. It was never the matter of what it was. Whether they wanted to be a doctor, or a teacher, or a police officer, or a pirate. People didn't see its worth, or its rationality. As long as you had one, you were good to go.

Then, along the way, they set limitations to your dream. It had to match your finansial situation. It had to be attainable. It had to be realistic. The boy suddenly couldn't be a pirate anymore because in high school, his peers laughed and his teachers had asked him for a more serious answer.

The tricky part, however, was not that. The tricky part was, even with the limitations they had set for us, we were still required to have dreams. High hopes. That dream was supposed to be something that made you thrive and kept you on the ground. But how could it be, when one's dream was way too high above the ground?

Byulyi always kept her dream simple. Clean-cut. Determined.

It started one summer when she was 9 years old.

The Moon family always appreciated family vacation. And that one particular summer, they had set destination to Jeonju. No determined reasons, just because a small town and new atmosphere sounded like a good plan.

And it was, indeed.

The atmosphere was nice, the local people were great, the food was amazing. It felt almost homey that the family decided to spend the entire month there.

Byulyi, however, found a lot more in Jeonju than just tourist attraction.

She found her dream.

And it was in the form of a petite young kid around her age, hair pulled in ponytail, eyes twinkling with mischief and dimples so deep that she badly wanted to dip her finger in it.

"My name is Moon Byulyi," Byulyi, daring as a little kid would be, extended her arm toward the girl. She was sitting crossed-legs on her front yard and later when Byulyi asked what she was doing, she explained she was keeping the flowers company and asked Byulyi if she wanted to join.

"Moon as in the door," Byulyi hastily took out a paper – a crumpled history test she had hid from her father – and a pencil, drawing a door along with the Korean alphabet of her name. "Byul as in the star!" She drew a star next to the door and smiled so widely at the little girl, nose scrunched up in the process.

Then, not long after that, Byulyi learned that the girl's name was Jung Wheein.

Byulyi and Wheein had been inseparable ever since, and their parents could only be happy their kids had each other as new friends. Wheein would grip tightly on Byulyi's hand and ran. Towards the backyard, along the pavement down the road, upstairs to Wheein's room. Byulyi had always thought Wheein was probably fond of athletic activities. But now that she thought back about it, maybe Wheein was just attracted to the idea of running away.

On the day when Byulyi had to go back to Bucheon, she cried. Wheein didn't. She just squeezed Byulyi's cheeks, telling her she looked ugly when she cried. But that didn't make Byulyi stop.

"We will meet again," Wheein said. Byulyi thought it was a promise. A promise she would have to fulfill.

Not until later on she decided it was a dream.

A dream she had to make come true.

But the thing about dream was, for every person, that it was not easy to achieve. Big or small, unrealistic or not, they had one uniformity. That it required a struggle to attain it. And it was not any different for a 9-year-old little Byulyi.

Her struggle was this: whining and crying and throwing tantrums at her parents, begging to come back to Jeonju. She refused to go to school, refused to eat her lunch – even when it was her favorite chicken sausage. She had faced her mom's gentle console until her father's exhausted wrath. But still, her dream was still far far away.

It was during a Korean language class when she learned new words and the teacher suddenly stirred the topic to ask her students what their dreams were. It was always fun to know about little children's dreams. Those dreams were the purest. Simply based on the desire in their hearts and not tainted by the fear of not achieving them.

"To go to Jeonju!" Byulyi answered confidently. The teacher thought it was adorable. Some friends of hers who had never gone to Jeonju looked at her in admiration.

"What is there in Jeonju, Byulyi?" Her teacher asked.

Byulyi didn't directly answer. Her cheeks were flushing red when she mumbled, "the shining to my star."
 

3.3

SIN

"We were not born in sin.

Leave a note on your bed
Let your mother know you're safe."

The Lumineers – Sleep On The Floor

Byulyi stared at the empty pack of cigarette on the table, then at Wheein, who was resting her head against Byulyi's shoulder. They were watching a re-run of everything that the Fox movies offered, but Byulyi barely caught anything from the film, with Wheein's scent filling her lungs and her hair tickled Byulyi's arm.

Then, something in Ralph Fiennes's line – Byulyi just realized it was The Grand Budapest Hotel – reminded her of her project and she mumbled a question, asking Wheein if she had any assignment due.

Wheein responded with a laugh. She shifted her head – her hair brushing against Byulyi's skin – and glanced up at her, then poking at her cheek.

"You're being too good, Moon Byulyi," she said, before chanting "too good, too good, too good," in a sing-song tune.

Byulyi was never convinced with the concept of goodness. She was never sure which one was good, and which one was not. Sure, she could differ legal and illegal, or allowed and not allowed. But when deciding what things were right and what things were not, she could not tell.

She wondered if Wheein knew exactly where the line was.

"Why am I good?" She tested. And that definitely got Wheein's attention because the latter abrupty sat up straight, staring at Byulyi with thoughtful eyes. Byulyi learned that Wheein's brown orbs resembled a caffe latte, with the right dose of milk and not too much.

"You study well," Wheein started, extending her index finger as a counting measure.

"You are kind," she continued with her middle finger. "Too kind," she abruptly added.

"You do your homework."

Wheein went on with the list. Byulyi didn't smoke. Byulyi didn't drink. Byulyi most likely was a . Byulyi was a helper. Byulyi was a nice daughter. The list went on that Byulyi had to interrupt.

"Does that make me good?"

Wheein stopped and she looked at Byulyi, right in her eyes. Byulyi had to repeat her question.

"Do all of those make me good?"

And Wheein laughed.

"No."

"No, they don't."

Byulyi went home when it was dark. She had asked Wheein about her parents' whereabouts and Wheein only shrugged, saying flatly that her mother had been out of town the last few days. Byulyi didn't ask about her father.

Right when Byulyi took a step into her room, her phone rang.

It was her mother.

"Hello, mom?" Byulyi greeted. It suddenly dawned her how much she had missed her family. How she should have spent more times in Bucheon after she arrived from America instead of directly going to Jeonju.

"Sweetheart! You've been good?"

Byulyi smiled because really, she didn't know.

They spent some good minutes telling each other the recent happenings. Byulyi saved the thing about Wheein for later.

"Study well, alright? I mean, I know you will," her mother chuckled. "But be good, okay? Eat well, make good friends, take enough rest."

"I've always been so proud of you. You know that?" Her mother's voice softened, Byulyi could almost feel the affection seeping from her phone screen.

"I won't worry about you, really. You've always been my best daughter." She finally said before hanging up the call. Her mother said that to all of her daughters, but little did Byulyi know that she had the softest spot for her. Her daughter, who went to an Ivy League university and despite being exposed to the western culture, was still a respectable Korean daughter loved by her relatives.

Byulyi was always the jewel to her family. And something about that made her aware of the smell of cigarette that was suddenly too apparent for her sense to catch. In , on her hands, on her sweatshirt. Everywhere.

And she had to really concentrate to catch a whiff of Wheein's scent in it.