She was four.

 

Or five.

 

She wasn't sure. But that's the earliest memory of her childhood where she was admiring her sister while she was fitting her birthday dress. Her beautiful perfect older sister. The memory was blurry, but she remembered that was the day, she, Krystal Jung, started to worshiped the ground her sister walk.

 

Krystal was a proud sister.

 

She was ten and it was new semester of her school. The school she was attending as well as her other member of family. Her mother. Her father. Her uncle and aunt. Probably also her grand. She wasn't sure−or care. It doesn't matter anyway.

 

And then the teacher said "You are Jessica's sister, right?"

 

Krystal was a proud sister, so she smiled, proudly, beamingly at her teacher. She was giddy and said "Yes" with her chin up.

 

She was in the middle school when she felt it. The first day of orientation where she was round up in a gym along with other new student after school tour with a pretty long haired girl who moved with grace but looks like having steel in her spine. Krystal didn't know how  is that possible, but the girl looked like the one who could stir her tea without making a single noise and only drunk in a fancy tea cup along with the saucer. Like a proper, well-spoken, from reasonably wealthy family.

 

Her name is Victoria Song.

 

Later she learned that Victoria apparently is a descendant of one prominent house−that somehow on the same level of dukedoms−in China.

 

They were waiting for the headmaster, in the gym, when Victoria suddenly asked "Is there one of you who named Krystal Jung?"

 

She smiled at her. Mixed feeling between being slight proud by being recognized and confused because the same reason. But then Krystal unconsciously clench her teeth and force a smile when Victoria sweetly smiled at her and said that Jessica told her to keep an eye on her sister.

 

She heard a few murmur around from the new student. She noticed eyes directed on her and smiles from the seniors. Krystal didn't knew them. All of them. But she was sure that her sister did.

 

Krystal was a proud sister. When Jessica perfectly executed a front handspring step out, round off back handspring step out, round off back handspring, full twisting layout down at one of her cheerleading gig, she was the first one who stood and cheered and clapped for her. Kystal was the first one who handed her a perfectly arranged flowers when Jessica won a spelling bee, slaying 'sanctimonious' in the final round.

 

She was in high school when she realized that her friend−some way or another−have a connection to her sister. Luna, the brown haired one−the one who went to confessional room in weekly basis; who once Krystal made to confessed hers because she definitely cannot go into a small closed room and blame her claustrophobic tendency for it−, is a sister of one of Jessica's ex. Sulli, the tall, pretty, with skin that too pale that she actually could see the bluish vein on her calf−maybe that was why she always wore thigh high sock−who spent most of her time making pastel coloured mood board in her tumblr page, is a cousin of Tiffany, her sister's best-bloody-friend.

 

She saw her sister everywhere.

 

Between the invitation of the cheerleading squad tryouts, 'You should at least try it, Krystal. Your sister was one of our best', that extended to her directly by their own captain, or when a guy asked her out probably just because she is blessed with the same gene pool as one of the prettiest girl that ever step their dainty feet on this school ground and not to mention the popularity which she inherited from her dear sister, namely Jessica Jung.

 

Jessica ing Jung. Her sister.

 

Krystal hates it.

 

No. She doesn't hate Jessica. She never hated her.

 

Jessica was the one who run her fingers up four-year-old Krystal’s back when she cried after being scolded by their father. Jessica told her to throw her shoulders back, strong and level and chin up because people watching−because they are Jung−and they were waiting for them to screw up and forced their father to step down from the head of family business. It was Jessica who brought her bandages and surgical tape when she bled, and it was Jessica who reminded her to have some fire, to be unstoppable, and be a force of nature.

 

Krystal loves her. And her sister loves her too.

 

Krystal cannot hate her. Not when Jessica's only being her true self.

 

What Krystal hates is her being insecure. She hates to be her sister's shadow. She hates herself for actually even thinking to blame and hate her sister.

 

So, before she gave up to the darkness and being a terrible, horrible, hateful person, she rebels.

 

Not that kind of rebels, she wasn't eloping with some red neck from trailer park like Victoria did, or snorting oxy behind the church after masses like Amber, or even building a meth cartel by taking advantage of her lab and her major in biochemistry−oh, believe her, she can, she had the brain and the necessity; although she was definitely intrigued when she watched Breaking Bad when she hung out with Amber.

 

No, Krystal rebellion is innocent.

 

She broke the status quo. She knew for sure she had enough being in her sister shadow, so she packed her bag the first thing after she sent her confirmation to attend the collage−that wasn't her sister alma mater−that offer her attendance.

 

Which was not the collage than her entire member in her family attended. Which she is sure actually had her name a day after she was born in their list, because her family's multi-million dollar businesses is one of the benefactor for generation−not to mention a library with her family crest that plastered on its door.

 

She had enough being a legacy.

 

She didn't take journalism, because that was what Jessica took. She didn't take business because that was what expected to her.

 

She didn't join any sorority. Public reason: too pink too pre-Stepford. Personal reason: Jessica was in one, and also too pink and too pre-Stepford. Instead she bullied Minho into sneaking her into frat parties whenever she was bored.

 

In her third year, she realized she had a fascination for horticulture.

 

And she found a person she could learn from.

 

One of her professor, a rather young in comparison from the other professor in the campus, who teaches the first year class−Biochem101 or whatever−he wasn't the professor when she took it , was seen reading Principle of Horticulture in the library. She caught up with him, talking about her interest in floriculture and landscape and persuaded him, very politely, to let her into his green house that he said he had at the back of his house.

 

Krystal was in bliss. She was liberated. She was out of her deepest burden. She felt that she kind of found her place. As Krystal Jung, not as Jessica's sister. She found a genuine friend, Amber, who seemingly always had a freshly pack of weed and asked her if she was trying to make meth every time she saw her holding a petri dish. At least she was kind enough to stay sober whenever Krystal asked her to go with her to the church; which were Easter and Christmas.

 

Amber is cool. She cut her hair short and dye it according to her mood of the moment. A row of piercing at her ear and tattoo on her arm. She collected Brickbear, has various colour and model of Docmart shoes, and worshipped Eminem.

 

The best part was, Amber is originally from Hongkong, and crossed the country to take English major in the college, so there's no way she somehow related to anyone near her sister.

 

Amber is her best friend. Krystal even willingly let her borrow her favourite Burberry scarf.

 

Here, she is Krystal Jung. That was how people defined her. That was how people knew her.

 

Krystal found herself every weekend, mostly Sunday, in the green house of her newly found friend slash professor. She asked him either she should call him professor or not more over she was actually never took any of his class and he said she could call him just by his name or whatever she wanted. And when she said she would call him arsehole, he only rolled his eyes and continued repotting the plants.

 

She found out that the professor was quite peculiar. She saw a Roll-tide-roll poster pinned on the cork board that hung on one side of the green house, but she could bet whatever in her inheritance that the guy was never been to Alabama or even play football, for all she knew he played baseball instead. He said it was from his friend before pointed his finger to the photo−which had four people in it−beside the poster. He said the guy one in the middle−the one between him and a very beautiful woman− gave it to him and put the poster by himself at the green house. She looked at the little smile on his face, before he shoved the hose to her hand.

 

On her fourth week of her 'apprentice program', she came to the green house which blasted with furiously sound of drums and electric guitar.

 

"Why in the ever loving are you playing heavy metal in your green house?" she asked, half shouted to him with her ears covered by her hands.

 

Then he calmly explained to her about unearthly associations between plant and music. And how they, in uncanny way, preferred heavy metal.

 

"I'll play Frank Sinatra if it's up to me" he said, then took his glasses from his face.

 

The weirdo, that was how Krystal mentally called him, let her to help him to repotted and said that she should start to plant by herself. He dragged her out to the corner side of the green house, which already been cleared, and told her to germinated to seed. It was their sixth week.

 

She became a constant visitors in the green house. She had her plant there. She made a mixed CD of various heavy metal song to be played in the green house; honestly she was bored with Metallica's Greatest Hits playing on repeat, like for, every single time. She even knew which pot he hid the key. And he asked her to watered the plant when he was away last week. She liked it.

 

She was pulling her camo parka on her when Amber−now, her flatmate after they both agreed to toss their dorm and rented flat near campus− who was watching telly on their couch asked:

 

"So, you're got hot for this guy, huh?"

 

"What the , Am. There's no−ing−way, me with that weird old man. Please, you're making me gag", she rolled her eyes then stormed out and went to the green house.

 

When she found a tiny little leave in her plant−her own ing plant−she immediately dashed to him. He was playing 'Rocky Raccoon'−don't ask her how she knew the song, she spent the last twelve weeks with a ninety-year-old-trapped-inside-vaguely-attractive-adults-body−from his phone, sitting at his foyer and holding a half full bottle of Corona in his other hand.

 

She dragged him to the green house and proudly showed him the plant−her plant−to him. And then he smiled. He smiled like fatherhood became him.

 

She mentioned that her professor was a ninety-year-old-trapped-inside-vaguely-attractive-adults-body, right? Now she had to throw the nice smile into the batch.

 

He had a nice smile that made her heart swelled.

 

"Stop doing that!" she barks at him, but her smiles was beaming. "You look like my dad. It's so bloody creepy"

 

Then he laughed and she stormed at him getting on soil all over his face and mouth.

 

After that he would call her 'Kiddo' to annoy her.

 

It was her supposed to be twentieth week, but he said he had plan and apologize to her. She dismissed it and said she also couldn't go to green house that weekend, but she could drop by to at least water it.

 

That Saturday, she drove herself home. Her mother requested her to came to their family dinner. And after almost over a year avoiding to meet her family, Krystal didn't has any smart and logical alibi in her pocket. So she applied a bit of mascara, tamed her freshly new cut hair, and put on a little black wrap dress she hadn’t wear since Jinki’s funeral. Poor Jinki got his disc spine slipped and hemorrhage in one of the overly wild frat party. Rest his soul.

 

Family dinner was consist of a four course meal, in their dining room complete with a modest chandelier. It wasn't as stiff or serious as it was pictured in the movie. Like please, her family is an old money but they're not living in regency era or in Jane Austen's books.

 

Normally, it was attended by only the four of them: herself, her sister, and their parent. Except when her mother threw a Christmas dinner, there'll be another people like aunts, uncles, their spawns, and close friend of family.

 

Then imagine how surprised she was when there was another person in the room beside the four of them.

 

Krystal mentally scolded herself when she didn't realized this sooner when her professor, the weirdo, listened to freaking 'Black Bird' every-ing-day after the weekend he was away to went to a wedding.

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

She is coping gracefully. It's actually not a hard thing to trash away that silly little crush she had over her professor. The bloody professor−with a vaguely attractive body, a nice laugh, and a smile that could make her inside somersault−that stolen right under her nose by her sister.

 

Rather than heartbroken, she is more like pissed.

 

She is pissed.

 

But she is handling this like a champ, like Daenerys when she changed for better and rising from the ashes after losing her first love. That is her, she handle this like a bad-,−except for the three dragons−Krystal has no dragons, not even a cat, or a hamster. But she doesn't need that.

 

She's a ing Khaleesi.

 

She's good. Her body working as they usually do. She showered, she did her daily routine, her class, her lab−and she could do all her labs in her sleep, to be pretty ing honest. She grew her plant, she did her chore, she listened to 'Eternal Flame'. She doesn't know why but she likes to sing− more like screaming, according to Amber− especially the reff of that song. She just felt relieved after doing that.

 

She is okay. And she is fine. She's definitely her old self. She even does grocery shopping.

Which is why she is now at one of the aisle inside the farmers market, tapping her teal polished nails against the screw-top lid of a mason jar which has navy coloured label and a striking 'Peachy Witch' written in neon green colour. It's a jam. And actually quite peachy one considering they really have a taste of real peach.

 

"These are fraud, you know" says a guy while picking a 'Blueberry Bribe' from the shelve.

 

"Excuse me?" she says, because in her house hold you say 'excuse me' not 'what' in this kind of situation. She's a rebel, not brute.

 

"They wasn't organic and full of artificial sugar and colouring"

 

She faces him with pinched expression in a terrifyingly precise scowl that does virtually nothing to detract from the impossible, incapacitating delicacy of her features. The guy's talking about an impossibility of the jam to be all organic and sugar free while managed to have a decent taste.

 

The guy−as she observes−is tall and thin and really ing handsome, which generally doesn’t do much for her because please she’s a Jung and good bone structure is everywhere. But she doesn't know if he dressed down or just dressing like Homeless in Harlem regularly.

 

"And I see that you're planning to relieve us−farmers market masses−from the danger of overly sugary and colourful jam by buying all of them" she raises her perfectly plucked brow and glance at his trolley which full of variant of jam.

 

"Oh don't forget to take those too. There're still some jar left on the shelve over there" she remarks while pointing with her chin toward the shelve.

 

He chuckles and smiles and she notices how it makes his feature looks softer.

 

"If you have to restock a house full of bunch of constantly hungry and border line barbaric guys, this is how it'll go"

 

He tells her how he lost in some silly, idiotic console game tournament between the frat boys this morning and has to do the grocery shopping for the house. And he just an errand boy.

 

"Just following the orders here" he grins and pulls a crumpled note from his sweater pocket.

 

"And are you one of those−what was that−constantly hungry and border line barbaric guys?" unconsciously a tug on the edge of her lips formed while watching him taking and putting the jar from shelve to his trolley.

 

"Guilty as charged" he shrugs his shoulder lightly before straighten his back and looks rather hesitant.

 

“I, uh, I’m Jongin” he finally says when the silence has gone on long enough to be slightly awkward.

 

She blinks. The guy−this Jongin guy−with a cute sheepish smile, she realizes now is actually nervous. She carefully to not to analyze too closely because this guy is a tiny trembling puff-ball of nervous energy and he’s semi-frightened of her but also semi-fascinated, too. That is. Something.

 

"Krystal" she says and he smiles. He is ing beaming. At her.

 

Did she said he has a cute smile before? Now he's smiling like the kind of smile that you have when you woke up and realize it is the first snow of the year outside. She doesn't know about the others but she likes cold. She loves snow and she loves winter. So that's kind of smile she would have when snow comes.

 

That kind of smile, on this Jongin guy's face, seriously won't do good to her heart.

 

He tells her about the party at his frat house tonight. And she tells him that she knew Minho and Jonghyun whom are actually in the same house as him. And yes she will come. And he tells him to look for him when she comes later.

 

"So, will you?" he winces, hurrying to add "It's okay if you−well I mean, just, you know.. Have drink with me?"

 

Her brows fly up.

 

"Depends"

 

"Depends?" his expression falters a little.

 

"Yeah, depends on what drinks are you going to offer me" a playful edge on her face. "Does it really not overly sweetened and artificially coloured?"

He huffs out a laugh, shoulders relaxing.

 

"I don't know. Maybe we both could check it later. Together. What do you think?"

 

A tiny curl made at the corner of her lips while she's nodding sagely.

 

"I'll look for you later, then"

 

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

P.s: I have no self-restraint. I made another one. sorry if you found some plot hole or typo or whatever. you could ask me or left comment. 

 

by the way, my grammar , i think i probably need a beta(?). tell me what you think.

 

P.s.s: maybe I would make other characters' story(?) from another character perspective(?) Sunny? Yuri? Tiffany? Maybe, I don't know. I have something in mind but we'll see