Mother once told me she was married to a stranger. 

As she tucked me in one night, eyes hollow and skin alarmingly pale, she called my father a stranger with memories and I never understood what she meant. How do you go from friends to lovers to strangers again? How do you lose familiarity with someone who once warmed your heart in their palms? 

I don’t have the answers but I get it now. I understand because I see a stranger when I look at him. 

He is just a boy in a leather jacket. Those lips are just lips, not the lips I dream of kissing. Those hands are just hands, not the hands I always want to hold. He is a boy, not my boy, not the boy, just a boy. 

He is just. Just. I use the word just because it downplays who he is and lessens his existence. It’s my attempt to pretend he didn’t scar me and claim my heart as his. 

“I just want to talk,” Jeno starts, and a tiny scoff escapes me. Unbelievable. 

I’m wise and choose not to waste my energy on another fight. But the jerk blocks my path when I attempt to enter my apartment. Staring at the bouquet of roses he’s holding, I gnaw on my bottom lip. 

Fine. If he’s going to be an , I’m going to be a brat. Taking my phone out, I dial the building security. They answer in two rings and I blurt. “There’s a man bothering me and stopping me from entering my apartment. I need security to hi-.”

The er snatches the phone out of my hands and backs me up against the wall. I ram my foot against his shin but that does nothing to faze him. 

Jeno sighs through his teeth. “False alarm,” he tells security, then tucks my phone in my back pocket. 

“Get away from me,” I snarl, my pulse starting to race. I can’t take it. I can’t stand looking at his face. His god-awful, perfectly structured face. Why do all liars have the prettiest faces?

Jeno is decent enough to take one step back, showing me his palms in surrender. “Okay,” he breathes. “I’m not going to touch you. I just want to talk, so please listen to what I have to say.”

He wants me to listen? To what? To more of his lies? Like hell am I going to stand here and let him spew more lies! He’s in no position to ask me to do things for him. 

I don’t reply, staring straight ahead, focusing on the buttons of his jacket to control the urge to attack him.

Jeno takes my silence as permission to rest his case. “I was drunk,” he rasps. “I wasn’t thinking clearly that night. I-I shouldn’t have yelled at you and said the things I did. I let my emotions get the best of me and I was a and I’m so, so ing sorry, Jang-mi.”

He pauses to gasp for a breath and I chew my tongue to stop myself from laughing. 

What the are these excuses? They’re bull. 

“But you did,” I scoff. “You said what you said and I know you meant every word.”

“At that moment, yes.” The bouquet of flowers slips from his grip. Red petals scatter around his feet. “I was mad, alright? You didn’t give me a chance to explain myself and I- I’m not the bad guy you think I am, Jang-mi. I’m just a bit ed up and t-that’s something I’m working on. And I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry doesn’t fix things. 

I seal my lips and allow his words to hang in the air. He doesn’t deserve a response, a reaction, anything. I’m not giving him anything anymore. He’s already taken too much from me. 

“Really?” Jeno scoffs, his midnight eyes b with disappointment. “Nothing, Jang-mi? No response?” 

He takes a step closer and I flatten my back against the wall. Jeno starts to plead. “C’mon, talk to me, Jang-mi. This is the time to scream at me or slap me again. I’m fine with it,” he grunts. 

Silence. Crickets chirping. Nothing. 

“Jang-mi, say something,” he begs. 

My only reply is a tired sigh. 

“Jang-mi, please.” Jeno shifts his weight onto one leg, shaking the other impatiently. 

Finally, I grow bored. “No,” I say flatly. “Leave me alone, Jeno.”

“No?” Jeno’s brows furrow and I shove him away, punching in my passcode with shaky hands. 

Once I’m inside, I scramble to shut the door, but Jeno manages to stick his foot in the gap. “Jang-mi, please! I’m not asking for forgiveness. I know what I did was ty. It was a move!” Jeno’s voice rises, both of us caught in a physical battle. We both push either side of the door. He wants to be close to me and I want him far away. 

I’m giving it all I’ve got, but Jeno is too strong for his own good. I dig my feet into the ground, trying to ignore the words that spill out of his untrustworthy mouth. 

“I should have realized it sooner,” Jeno groans. “But I’m a coward and I’m afraid of change and I-.”

He no longer makes sense and I highly doubt he’s aware of what he’s saying. “Ah ! I’m at expressing how I feel, Jang-mi!” He spits, finally losing his footing. I slam the door in his face, palms flat on the wood as I catch my breath. 

Jeno bangs a fist on the door, and with pure desperation, he yells. “Jang-mi, it was real to me!”

Lies.  

I can’t trust him. I can’t trust a word out of his mouth. I clamp my eyes shut and lean my forehead on the door, lacking the self-control to walk away. Like an absolute idiot, I stand frozen, listening to his ragged breathing on the other side. 

“I’m ed up, Jang-mi,” he says in a strained voice. “I’m-.” A frustrated groan and another bang.

“I wasn’t supposed to,” he confesses, and I inch closer, anticipating his explanation. Genuine or not, I don’t know. All I can do is listen. 

“I faked it,” Jeno says softly, like a child admitting they stole a cookie out of the jar. “Up until Busan, you were just another girl I was messing with.”

His words sting and my chest tightens. “It’s ed up, I know, but I’m telling you the truth,” Jeno insists and the noise that leaves my mouth is a cross between a whimper and a strangled groan. 

The truth. Is it really the truth?

“I faked it, Jang-mi,” Jeno repeats firmly, adding salt to my fresh wound. 

He slices open a new wound on my chest to claw out my heart with his next words. “I faked it until I ing fell in love with you.” 

Liar. 

Lee Jeno is officially banned from entering my apartment building.

I printed a photo of him and gave it to the guards for reference. They made faces at me, but after I slipped them a couple of crisp bucks, they promised they’d do their best. 

Thank god. I’ve decided that the best way to move on is to forget. To completely ignore his existence and to live by the mantra of an amnesic blue fish. Just keep swimming, I told my reflection this morning. Just keep pushing and living and continuing onwards. Life goes on even though I desperately need a break from reality. 

There is no pause button and I can only live hoping I can fast forward through the tough times. 

And it’s working because although the days drag by, they’re curving upward, getting better and better. 

I’m proud to say I didn’t have to fight back tears when I woke up alone today. I also brewed my own coffee and it didn’t taste like watered-down . For breakfast, I made hard-boiled eggs with a jammy center.

 Progress. It’s positive progress and today feels like a good day to be alive. 

Hood up to protect my hair from the wind, I rock back and forth on my heels, waiting for the bus. 

Now that I no longer have Jeno to pick me up and send me places, I’m back to public transportation. I don’t mind, except on the days when the bus is too crowded and I feel buried alive. 

It’s half empty this morning, and I hum along to the song blasting from my earphones. Leaning my temple against the glass window, I protectively hug my backpack on my lap.

Staring at the passing cars, I’m completely oblivious to the stranger who’s trying to get my attention. The guy eventually sticks his hand in my face and I jerk, whipping my head in his direction.

He has light brown hair and a meek smile, bowing politely as he motions to the empty seat beside me.

“May I?” I lip-read the words, the music in my ears drowning out his voice.

I nod wordlessly and when he takes a seat, I’m punched in the face by the scent of sweet cream vanilla. He’s too tall for these cramped seats, and I feel sorry for him when I notice his uncomfortable squirming. 

His reflection is clear in the window, and I find entertainment in studying his soft features. I know he’s an SMU student because he’s carrying a folder with our logo. And not that it’s pertinent information, but he’s a leftie. I know this because there are ink smudges on the side of his left hand. 

With his right hand, he waves to catch my attention. 

I pop my earphones out and he says. “She’s my favorite too.”

“Huh?” I blurt.

“Taylor Swift.” He grins, puppy dog eyes glimmering. “Your earphones are leaking.”

“Oh, sorry.” My chin dips as I adjust the volume. “I-uh, love her too,” I add when he doesn't stop staring. 

He nods excitedly, brown hair falling over his eyes. “She got me through my first breakup. I wouldn’t have survived without the Fearless album.”

His confession draws a soft laugh from my lips. “I had the same experience with Red,” I reveal and he shifts closer. 

Excitement wavers his silky voice. “She’s dropping a new album this Saturday.” 

“At midnight, yeah.” I can’t help but match his energy, bopping my head. “My best friend and I are going to have a listening party.” 

Mystery boy’s eyes light up. “That sounds like fun. My best friend.” A pause to frown. “He calls me a wuss for listening to T Swift. He’s into rap and hip hop and EDM. Basically, all the music that gives me a headache.”

I snort. “Noise music.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles, and the bus comes to a slow stop. “This is me.” He points to the doors and rises to his feet.

I nod politely, and he adjusts his backpack. “I’ll see you around, Jang-mi.”

His wide smile etches itself into my mind and I know he’s all I’m going to be thinking about for the next few hours because how- 

“How do you know my name?” I blurt, but he’s already hopping off the bus. Gone. 

School is drab. The lectures don’t provide me with any new knowledge, so I decide to leave early and head home.

It’s cold out today, and I play a game of don’t step on the cracks as I skip down the sidewalk. 

Rubbing my hands together to warm them, laser-focused on the concrete, I bump into a solid surface. 

Familiar hands grab the top of my arms. His touch burns.

“You put me on the do not enter list?” Jeno grunts and I step away from him. 

Glaring through my lashes, I walk around him and pick up my pace. I brisk past his motorcycle parked a block away from my apartment and Jeno grabs my wrist. 

His grip is bruising, his voice brusque. “Silent treatment? Really, Jang-mi?”

I shake him off. He grabs me again.

“Pretending I don’t exist doesn’t erase the fact that you’re in love with me,” Jeno spits and my spine stiffens.

The audacity of this man! 

Yanking my hand away, I bite my tongue to stop the insults from slipping out. He’s a waste of my breath and time. 

Jeno’s pupils shake as he reaches for me again and he almost gets me when a loud beep steals our attention. 

A red car drives straight into Jeno’s motorcycle, knocking the two-wheeled vehicle onto the ground. A furious growl tears from Jeno’s throat as his eyes widen with both worry and shock. 

“Are you ing kidding me?” Jeno snarls, stomping over to his beloved bike. He pulls it upright just as Jaemin throws himself off his car. 

I let out a relieved sigh, glad to have someone on my side. Jaemin never hesitates to fight my battles for me, and although I don’t usually approve, today I’m grateful for his help.

“I’m pretty sure she wasn’t speaking a foreign language when she told you to leave her alone,” Jaemin barks, arms crossed on his chest. I peek over his shoulder, Jeno running a frustrated hand through his hair. 

His dark eyes narrow into slits, his voice intimidatingly low when he warns.  “Stay out of this, Na.”

“Just leave her alone. You’ve done enough,” Jaemin sighs. I purse my lips, hiding behind my best friend, praying God would send a lightning bolt to strike Lee Jeno and make him disappear. 

But I doubt even an almighty entity can force Jeno to back down. He’s stubborn and a fighter. If he wants me to listen to what he has to say, he’ll make me.

“Oh, you know what?” Jeno throws his hands in the air, his fuse close to exploding. “You deserve an Oscar, Na Jaemin,” he scoffs. 

Jaemin tenses up, his audible breathing coming to an abrupt stop. I move to glance at the profile of his face, and fear tightens my chest. Jaemin nibbles on his bottom lip, his hardened gaze a silent plea for Jeno to shut up. 

“Shut up, Lee,” he croaks after a beat of stifling silence.

My fingers tighten around the straps of my backpack. What are they talking about? What is this?

“Y’know since we’ve all been so good about truth-telling lately, I think it’s your turn.” Jeno challenges Jaemin with a smirk, and he blanches. 

“Shut. Up,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Jaemin, what is he talking about?” I croak, tugging on the hem of his blue sweater. Tell me it’s nothing. Tell me it has nothing to do with me. 

Jaemin, please. 

You’re my best friend. 

“Tell me,” I demand softly, and Jaemin turns away, letting out a shaky breath. 

He can’t stomach looking me in the eye. Guilt does that to people. It makes you unable to face your victim.  

“I just wanted to help you,” is his strained reply, and the smirk on Jeno’s face disappears. It’s replaced by a look of pity. Directed at me.

“What?” I mumble.

Jaemin finds the courage to meet my confused eyes.“You were heartbroken over Yeonjun,” he blurts, speaking fast and frantically. “You needed a rebound, Jang-mi. You were hurting yourself missing him, so I- I told Haechan about you and how I wanted to help you, and h-he told Jeno to use you.” 

I stumble back, his words striking me in the chest. The fresh scab on my barely healed wound chips off and I bleed all over again.

“I gave them the idea to use you because you- you needed a distraction! I didn’t think you’d actually fall for him! It was supposed to last only a month but Jeno-.”

“Enough!” I snap, blinking rapidly to clear my hazy vision. 

Seriously? 

My best friend too? 

“I thought you were on my side, Jaemin,” I whisper, my voice cracking when I say his name. I don’t like the taste of it, and I shake my head, admitting to myself that I’m an idiot. 

I had no idea. Not a clue that my so-called best friend has been lying to me. 

Why is it so easy for them to lie to me? It’s either they’re skilled liars or I’m an idiot. 

Pushing past him, I rush towards my apartment building, ignoring how they both desperately call out my name. 

I’m an idiot, I tell my reflection, wiping away the tears that spill. 

I’m an idiot. 

Winter is right around the corner and it’s getting too cold to be alone.

There’s no better place to warm up than in the arms of a loved one. A hug beats the thickest scarf or heavily padded jacket. An embrace from a loved one warms you from the inside out, and no amount of winter clothes can emulate that. 

Shivering, I blow hot air into my cold hands. My legs tremble as I board the bus and claim a window seat. I’ve never been good with cold temperatures. I’m part of the rare group of people that rather burn to death than freeze. 

Rubbing the goosebumps on my skin, I stare blankly out the window. Observing, wondering, missing. I watch the people of Seoul with an unwavering gaze. They’re all huddled together. Lovers, friends, and even strangers seek warmth from each other. 

Life is getting cold. And I’ve just recently lost my source of warmth. 

I’ve blocked out Jaemin completely. His betrayal cut deep, and I’ve tried to be rational, I really did. He said he did it out of care, but that isn’t good enough for me. 

Jaemin is my best friend. For a long time, he was my only friend. He shouldn’t have put me in the position I was in, especially because he knows how sensitive I am. 

He knew this was not going to end well. He knew Jeno would hurt me and yet he played along. Jaemin lied to me, and that cemented my decision to cut ties with him. I can’t be around liars anymore. I won’t do it. I promised myself. 

Sniffling, I hug my stomach and let my eyes flutter shut. I haven’t been getting adequate sleep lately and it’s starting to take a toll on me.

I credit my lack of sleep to my shifting color chart. I’ve strayed significantly from all the bright colors when Jeno hurt me. I’ve shifted to gray because of Jaemin. 

Now, I’m descending into cool and darker colors. Inching closer and closer to a downward spiral, I’m doing everything in my power to stay away from turning blue. 

I’m not the most religious person, but at times like this, I believe God exists. He must be watching me above because he sends me a colorful person to brighten my day.  

“Hey.”

I peer up at the boy with brown hair, my lips twisting to match his warm smile. 

Mystery boy casually greets me, sliding into the empty seat and zipping open his backpack. 

He nudges my side and hands me a Taylor Swift CD. I accept it by opening my palms, and he says. 

“It’s signed.”

“Oh my god,” I blurt, swiping my thumb over the signature written in black marker. 

“It’s my most prized possession,” he says with pride, and I laugh softly in awe.

Flipping the plastic CD around in my hands, I sneak a glance at him. He’s watching me, studying me with wonder in his puppy eyes. 

“How do you know my name?” I spit in his face, a bit too aggressively. 

The boy shrugs nonchalantly. “Everyone knows your name, Jang-mi. You dated Lee Jeno.”

“Of course.” I can’t contain the irritated grumble that escapes me and my nostrils flare. Just for a moment, because mystery boy’s sympathetic smile makes me soften.  

“Okay, but I don’t know your name,” I add and he tilts his head to the side. 

“Guess.”

“Guess?” I snort. “That’s impossible.”

He eggs me on by narrowing his eyes. “Use your criminology skills. I heard you’re a top student.”

“I don’t use my so-called criminology skills to guess names,” I tell him. 

He flashes me his pearly whites. “Two syllables.”

I playfully roll my eyes, my tone thick with sarcasm when I say.  “Just like everyone else in Korea. Thanks for the helpful hint, buddy.”

He simply shrugs and I decide to humor him. “When were you born?”

“September 13, 2001.”

I’m a year older. Interesting. 

“2001,” I muse, starting to think aloud. “S, J, and H names were the most popular…and since you’re born in September, I’m going to take a wild guess and say your name starts with an S?”

His sweet eyes widen and I almost pump my fist in the air. 

“You’re a witch,” he deadpans and a giggle floats past my lips. 

“Okay, I give up. Just tell me,” I insist and he finally reveals. 

“It’s Sungchan. Jung Sunghcan.”

My mouth forms a perfect O. It’s a fitting name for his spirited demeanor. 

“Any chance you’re somehow related to Jung Jaehyun?” I ask, and surprisingly I’m right again. 

“First cousins,” Sungchan nods and I grow nosy, pointing to his thick school folder. 

“What do you study? That’s a lot of paper.”

“Oh, these are student papers I’m grading. I’m a TA for Professor Do. I’m majoring in Education”