This story is inspired by a song "Before" & "Oceans & Engines" by NIKI

Do I still remember her?
Every single damn time.
They said time heals?
. No it doesn't.

That one day, on December, when Seoul greeted winter but even the 4°C couldn't make feel cold as her hug was the warmest and her kiss was even better, was the very first time I ever allowed somebody to get me by both. Both the way she stripped me down and that our skins touched each other, and the way she touched my heart more than I ever imagined, and even after years passed, nothing has really changed in me. We were young, but it turned out I was the only idiot in that story. In the story of my young love for her. And it was something I wrote down to my note before I converted it to one of the songs I wrote about her. To think about it again, I've been questioning a lot about it. Did anything ever really count to you, or was I just a three-year practice round to you? Yong, do you copy? Of course, you don't.

Yong. Yongsun. It used to be my favorite word of all. Her name. I was 18 when I decided to confirm all the feeling I held for her was love—a probably blind, intense, young love. She's the sun to my blue, cold life. And to think about it again, was I too young to decide? Maybe. But was it real? I don't know, but it hurt, so maybe after all that was true.

I could feel her a lot deeper—more than I did for all those years that I grew up adoring her as an unnie who went to the same school with me until she went to a college that set a distance from me, through the look in her eyes when we made love, that night for the first time. The night I visited her flat near her college, in the twin-sized bed that fit both of us. I love you, Wheeinie. I always love you. The words echoed back in my ears. I remember how I smiled broadly before finally her lips crushed mine again, and there were no other words that I could say other than repeatedly her name in the pleasure we both shared.

"I love you too, unnie."
"Call me by my name." She smiled. "I love it."
"I love you, Yong. I love you so much."

She changed, but don't we all? That year, I finally went to college. In contrast to her majoring in Public Relations at Korea University, I took Visual Music and Sound at Yonsei, which is an hour's drive. It didn't matter, I thought. We both worked on something we like, and that I thought she would think of me as much as I did, but everything seemed to work on the opposite way and it broke me to pieces. The pieces I could never put back together anymore.

Moonbyul. She introduced her to me. A cool new friend, she said. Someone from the Communications major who was in the same grade as her on campus. Someone who, even though she didn't study in the same major as her, can help her overcome the difficulties of studying in the last semester, and most importantly—and that hurts me the most, could accompany her as often as I always wanted to, and be her mainstay as much as I hope she would trust me to do the same, to become one for her.

That one day in March, when I secretly came and visited her, I met some of her college friends who were already in her room to give her the same kind of birthday surprise. With an innocent smile, I went inside, and also with the same smile, I finally knew that everyone in that small room where she lived didn't recognize me as her lover at time, but as a little sister who grew up with her in the suburbs of Seoul. Just the little sister who was so close with her. Just a damn little sister, she probably told them that. Still, with my innocent innocent smile, I knew that she and Moonbyul were having an affair. I couldn't smile anymore, or pretend because my limit has been crossed and I was clearly hurting. I came home and admitted defeat, though I never really knew why. She dated her cool new friend who everyone told they would be a perfect match and I was just a little sister? Well. Congratulations.

"It's complicated to make amends."
She said. Okay, I said.

"We were something."
Did she say that in a past tense? Did she?

"But too bad we were children."
I was 21 and she was 23, and what she said.

At that time, she would be graduating from college in less than three months, and for all that I had given her and gone through with her, Moonbyul would be the one accompanying her at her graduation party. Not me. Obviously not me, the damn little sister. That year, not even the hundreds of bottles of soju I drank could make me feel as drunk as drowning as all the pain I felt for her. I have great alcohol resistance—they say. And with the same innocent smile, I replied that it was actually the pain I held in me, and since then, I have never felt truly conscious. She consumed my mind more than I allowed, and even though I know she has left me without a trace, I still love her deeply.

I never heard anything from her anymore since the last time I stared at her graduation picture on my Instagram feed where she smiled the brightest and surrounded by her loved ones, where I wasn't belong. I was never able to listen to her soft voice anymore—and that's probably because I shut it all down. I moved to a new flat, blocked her number, and so did the social medias I had, and most of the case because I pushed her away everytime. I knew she said she was sorry, but it wasn't enough to heal me, so it would be better to end up like that. She disagreed, but then I walked away, said that I was sorry for being a childish little sister.

One year later, my notebook was filled with notes about her, all the words that filled my head and never got across. All my pain that no one ever understands. Time heals, they say. And I was waiting for it. I was waiting for time to heal me, until everything that hurts, no longer could hurt me, and when it hurts again, I would feel nothing. I accelerated my course, got laude and graduated a semester early before finally leaving Seoul so I could be in a better place, anywhere as long as there are no memories of her. I burned all the bridges and never looked back. I was being a childish one, and I was sorry.

The letter I sent to her was a mistake—a big damn mistake, and I was the only one to be blamed. I tore off a piece of paper from my notebook where I wrote down all my feelings that I had harbored for so long with the tears that probably wet them. Hi. How are you? I said. I know you're happier now, without me obviously, and I'm so happy for you. But you're the reason why, that my world fell apart and I couldn't seem to see anything clearly, not with the wounds you put in me. I said I was sorry for sending the letter, but let that be the best closure I could get. I said she could burn the letter and forget me at all after that. But then I got weaker by telling her how much I ing missed her and put her in a bad position that I decided to leave the country just to forget. And even weaker that I told her that I wish she would come to tell me to stay—that she didn't do it. Obviously. I'm such an idiot.

Then that I left for good to Seattle...

You were all I'd ever known // And now I'm supposed to love you from a distance // Like it's nothing, like it's instant // And you say, "Let's just see where this goes" // And I don't know how or why you seem just fine // 'Cause I'm having to grasp that you're somehow not mine anymore // It's so cruel how things are only almost like they were before // Like they were before*

*** ***

"Annyeonghaseyo."

The voice of the woman who delivered the food that night interrupted my reverie instantly. I smiled a little after allowing her to leave my hotel room, with some dinner choices served on the dining table. Five years passed, I again set foot in my hometown, Seoul. Studying in Seattle, I ventured to focus on music, where I started my career as an indie musician: from cheap recording, stage to stage, and boom. I was too lucky. A commercial music producer found me, and all the words I composed into songs were no longer be kept in my private collection, but I shared them through the songs I sing. Those years were like a dream: my songs hit the charts, had high streams and went viral on several social media apps, and were also used as the main soundtrack to a drama series that also had high ratings on Netflix. Gradually, I turned into a professional singer and songwriter, and Seoul was one of my music tour destinations that year. And after all, Seoul is home, although I still often feel bitterness because of... that one person.

"Whee. You're leaving? Where?"
"Gonna grab some coffee. You want some?"
"This hour? Nah. I'm good." The woman yawned. "We can request—"
"Nah. I need to stroll around too. A little jetlag."
"I see. I'm so sleepy."
"Sleep, Hye. I'll be back soon."
"Is it okay that I sleep early? Also, don't forget your mask, pop star kid."
"No worries. Have a nice sleep, manager-nim."
"Shut up." We shared a little laughter. "Don't stay outside too long."
"Copy that."

With a thick jacket, a scarf wrapped around my neck, a black hat and mask covering my identity, after taking a leisurely walk enjoying the cold and fresh air of Seoul that night, I entered a small cafe about 300 m from the hotel where I was staying. I couldn't lie, not even to myself, that I did miss that city. Seoul, however, with all its strengths and weaknesses, will always be where I end up, where I come from.

"Hello. What's your order?"

A warm greeting from a shoulder-length brown-haired woman who had just turned around and looked at me with a big smile on her face stopped my heartbeat instantly. It couldn't be. I said to myself. Yongsun is a smart, talented and has promising career in front of her—at least that was the things I remembered about her. She was accepted into Korea University on a scholarship, and was also one of the best graduates the college had in her graduation year. Even though I shut down my world from her, I know that she had worked in a well-known multinational PR agency from England after graduation. Whoever was standing in front of me wearing a black cafe apron and smiling behind the counter wasn't the Yongsun I knew. Not the Yongsun I admired for a long time.

I froze while biting my tongue and decided to turn back when the woman called my name. It was the voice I recognized.

"Whee?"

I stared blankly. I couldn't afford any single word at the moment.

"Wheein."
"What happened, Yong?"

She seemed surprised with my direct question that I regret instantly. I couldn't take it back. Out of my prediction, she threw a soft, sweet smile of hers, the thing I missed the most from somebody that I missed a lot. I gripped the edge of my jacket as she walked closer.

"It's a surprise to meet you here."
"It's a surprise you could recognize me."
"Of course I would." She smiled once again. "How are you?"

How am I? Dead, yet alive.

"Good. You?"
"I'm doing fine, Whee."
"Good to know."
"Is there something you want—"
"What happened, Yong?"

She smiled. And please stop it. I begged. In a split second later, something seemed to bother her. She held her head, tilting it slightly. When she looked back at me with her warm smile, I was still not ready to face her, and maybe never will be. All the bitterness I felt was bursting again. How's it really going? Why does she work as a cashier—and the night shift, come on? Is she still with Moonbyul?

"Nothing happened. What do you mean?"

I felt stuck and that I could no longer face her at the moment.

"Do you want a hot choc—"

I turned my back. I pocketed both hands into my jacket pocket after putting on the hoodie. I gritted my teeth loudly and walked out of the cafe at a fast pace. I no longer hear her voice—I didn't want to, and that I couldn't. I hated myself and that situation, even though so many years have passed, the fact is I still couldn't handle it. I hate her: her pretty face, her warm smile, her soft voice, and everything about her. I hate how in the end I can not hate her. Not even a bit.

I stood in front of the closed cafe. 9.55 am. I passed a sleepless night that I regret for walking away from her, so I decided to come back in the morning to offer her an apology. I checked on Naver earlier and the cafe supposedly be opened in the next five minutes. I stared straight at the cafe and when it's opened, I found a tall young guy in plaid shirt smiled widely to see me.

"Good morning. Do you want to buy coffee?"
"Good morning. Yes, and also." I took a little glance at the empty cafe. "I'm looking for Yong."
"Yong?"
"I'm sorry. I mean, Yongsun. Kim Yongsun. She works here, right?"
"Ah! Yongsun noona?"
"Yes. Her."
"Yes. She works here, but not today."
"Oh. A day off?"
"Yeah. Monthly doctor visit. As usual."

Monthly doctor visit? As usual?

"Do you happen to know which doctor or hospital she goes?"
"Of course. You're her friend from—"
"High school. I went to the same high school with Yong unnie."

After pocketing the name of the hospital, I rushed my car to that address. I didnn't understand why I did that. The night before, I cried a lot because the trauma I had felt like it was being brought up again, and it got worse because everything felt like it was just yesterday. I resented how I actually piled on all my pain instead of letting it all out to ease it all for me, and for her as well. I'm sure Yongsun must be very disappointed by my childish attitude. And it's the whole reason I tried to reach her in the morning. I should have accepted my defeat and let go after all.

Dr. Samantha Kim. A neurologist. I winced reading the details about the doctor. Why does Yongsun need regular monthly meetings with a neurologist? Is this related to the headache she had last night? My curiosity was piqued, making my footsteps quicker looking for the doctor's room, or wherever I could find Yongsun. My head was turning right and left, trying to find the room according to the instructions of a nurse I previously asked until I accidentally bumped into someone in front of me. I stopped my steps to apologize for my carelessness when I found a familiar face.

"Wheein?"

it. My question seemed to have an answer. Of course. Yongsun's still with her, Moonbyul, and it was so obvious that the woman was the one who accompanied her on her monthly visit. I hate myself.

"Moonbyul unnie." I smiled awkwardly. "Hi."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm—Well." I had to think quickly. "I'm accompanying my manager. She's sick."
"Oh. Is she okay now? What happened?"
"Migraine."

I answered whatever. I just wanted to turn back and leave. To my surprise, Moonbyul chuckled a little. It seemed that she knew that I was lying to her. I exhaled my breath slowly and smiled back a little.

"I'm sure the general medical ward isn't in this block."
"Apparently I'm lost."
"Are you looking for Yong?"

Oh God. Let me just leave.

"No."
"She told me she met you last night."
"She told you that?"
"Yes. And that you left suddenly."
"I forgot something. I had to go back."
"And you're here to apologize?"

I really wanted to leave the place, but then Moonbyul held my arm. I threw a sharp gaze at her, but something in her eyes made me stop for a while. Beside she was right. I came to apologize, and that I wanted to let it all go, I had to face it all by myself. I let a deep breath softly and faced her much calmly. I accepted my defeat.

"I should leave cause my wife is waiting for me, but I have to tell you everything. I planned to find you after I knew you're holding a concert in Seoul—and that Yong met you, but since I'm meeting you here now."
"Wait. What? Your wife? Aren't you dating Yong unnie?"
"Ah. I see. So, you really don't know anything?"
"What do you mean?"
"We never dated."
"You accompanied her at the graduation. You're always with her. What do you mean?"
"She likes me."
"Oh yes. I can see it clearly. Thanks for telling me that."
"But she never loves me."

I groaned silently. Whatever Moonbyul said at that time, I never really prepared myself for it. I stared at the serenity on her face. She prepared herself for the meeting, I know. Moonbyul pulled me to walk towards a small park near the complex. We both sat on a park bench and were silent for a while. Previously, she told me that Yongsun would likely come out of the doctor's office in 20 minutes, and that was the time she would be using to tell me everything. I felt exhausted, and my neck was a little tight. I was contemplating whether I should listen to everything or just walk away from everything, but Moonbyul forced me to stay. "For Yong. Please." She said.

"The previous collision she got to her head was really bad, that's why she needs to check with the doctor every month. She still needs to take a doctor's prescription so that her head doesn't hurt anymore. The treatment has been going on for years, so the condition has gotten much better." She said. I didn't get it, but I kept on listening. "But last nigh