Quintet #3

Bull's Eye
 

The crone withdrew her hand in a fluster, gawking at the anomalous outlander cautiously. She wasn't certain if she could trust his words, whether or not he truly meant what he said. She dithered for a moment or two, but was eventually drawn in by his regal outfit and sophisticated aura. With a cursory sweep down her skirt in an attempt to regain her composure, the old lady then held out her wrinkled hands and quoted a price for the stranger.

The boy looked up at the hands of the old lady, before he nodded with a smile, and dug into his own pockets, fishing out more than what the old lady had requested for. The hag's eyes twinkled at the sight, unable to contain her glee.

“Oh, thank you, thank you very much, kind sir. I do hope you will patronize us again.” The old woman murmured, excitement still bubbling in her tone, as she accepted the coins with open hands. The next moment, the old lady had her back on the two of them, counting out the money she had just been given.

Jasmine gaped at the sight. This stranger, he cannot possibly? For her? Feeling instantly guilt-ridden, she reached out a hand to the stranger, almost as if asking him to reconsider.

“It's fine, I mean... The apples... It's my fault, you don't need to...” She didn't know what words to say. Behind, she could feel her mother's venomous eyes trained on her, implying silently that she had better zip up, not after her mother had just gained quite the fortune out of him.

The stranger looked at her, and laughed. “It's fine, Miss. I really needed the apples, too. More importantly, are you feeling all right? Your face is pale. Perhaps it will be a wiser option to consult the doctor in town?” His voice was sweet and genuine.

“No... I...” Jasmine felt her cheeks burn as she ran a hand up the fringe covering her forehead. “I'm fine. I'd help you pick up the apples.” It did feel a little gawky. She has never been so close to an individual of the opposite . The encounter itself feels a little hazy, and Jasmine was at a loss over how she should deal with the alien emotions surfacing within her. She felt out of place, a little light-headed, but beneath all those she was surprisingly ecstatic, almost as if expecting more.

The stranger smiled again. “Don't fret it, I'd do it myself. You should take a rest, Miss.” he waved to a corner by the road, ushering her to sit down while he went to his knees and began collecting all the fallen apples and putting them back into the empty casket. Jasmine, in her dilemma, cast a surreptitious glance at her mother, only to find the old woman glaring back at Jasmine.

Cowering her head lower, Jasmine crawled to another side and began picking up the apples that had rolled into the distance.

“Oh, thank you very much, Miss.” The stranger beamed again, as Jasmine placed the apples she had picked up into the casket. Jasmine surveyed the surroundings one last time, before she was persuaded that all the apples have been put back into where they belonged.

When the assurance surged in her, Jasmine's knees buckled and she fell to the ground. It was then that she realized she could barely move another inch.

This evinced surprise in the stranger. “Miss! I don't think you are quite all right.” he came to the conclusion, studying her face curiously.

Jasmine waved him off with a bleak smile, but he quickly latched on, “If this is about the money, I don't mind footing the bill. One's health cannot be made a game of.”

He held out a hand.

Jasmine stared wide-eyed at his outstretched hand, then at the comely face of the stranger.

“You don't mind if I borrow your beautiful daughter for a while, am I right, Madame?” he turned to the old woman and chuckled.

“Oh... Oh! Of course not. She's in luck to have met a generous man of your like.”

Closing her eyes, Jasmine raised her hand and clutched the stranger's, feeling his five fingers close around her clammy skin. The sensation sent shudders down her spine, and she wobbled to keep herself stable as he helped bring her back to her two feet. She lowered her head, then lowered it even more, trying to conceal her face already the color of beet-root, but more importantly, she didn't want anybody to know; especially not the handsome stranger,

Of how she was enjoying it all, this wonderful magic in her life.

**

I was sluggishly roused awake by the oppressive heat of banal Singapore weather. At six in the morning I lay in bed, staring at the dark greyish ceiling above, feeling my mess of hair beneath damp. The air was stale, with humidity pressing down like a thick blanket over frozen ice. My forbearance wearing thin, I sat up on the bed, fanning myself exasperatedly as the sweat drops continued to form.

Figuring I would not be able to fall back into sleep, I got to my feet and sat directly before the electronic fan, exposing myself closer to the wind, feeling the cool breeze caressing my skin, and along with it my evaporating heat.

Today is the day.

They are going to announce who gets to partake in EXO's variety show.

Somehow, I was turning out to be the complete polar opposite of what I reckoned myself to be.

Initially, I deemed myself to be one of the nonchalant kind, uncaring with regards to how the survey would end up to be, thinking the survey to be child's play, and conceiving that I will not be selected as one of the 8 participants of the variety show. Eight of millions. I could not be that special.

Yet with each passing day, I can't help hoping. I can't help hoping that I would be one of the eight special fans selected from the mass. I can't help but keep wishing that I would end up being someone different, someone special. I can't help but want to gain a form of leverage over the rest of the ordinary person; can't help but desire to shed the 'boring' skin around me.

Truthfully, I wasn't so sure what to think.

Because everytime I truly yearned for something, that something will just stay, forever, out of grasp.

**

Here I go again.

I waited at the train station, its platform packed with commuters from all walks of life. It was the peak hour. The train trundles into the station, and everyone starts pushing one another all over the place, trying to squeeze into the already crowded carriage. Some inconsiderate ones have the audacity to simply stand in the center of the train doors, outright blocking alighting passengers' ways, and at the same time cutting everyone else's queue.

I managed to fit into the carriage, but it wasn't without pushing and squeezing of other individuals who simply do not have the patience to wait for the next approaching train. From behind, some older women brutely elbows my back, forcing themselves to be within the carriage right as the train doors closes inches from their face.

Honestly, for all the seventeen years I have been alive in this world, I have not done anything truly noteworthy, or even experienced something mind boggling. Or, at the very least, felt different. My life started out as a blank canvas, and it still remains a blank canvas. It seems the painters all refuse to paint over it.

I look around the carriage, at the rest of the commuters all jostled within. Each person here had their own dreams, have their own sets of memories, have their own life stories. Each and every one was special in this way, and I was just another one of them. I imagined all of the people here to be the eager fans, each hoping they would be the lucky ones chosen, and in that split second afterwards I regretted envisaging everything.

My heart died, and along with it the dreams and hopes I was still having in the morning – all buried into the ground.

**

Sehun peered closely at Suho, who was standing before a closet choosing the clothes he would be wearing for the day as they all make their way to their manager's office, to be briefed about their upcoming variety show. Outside, they could hear Baekhyun and Chanyeol together, apparently already done with their preparations.

“Hey, so what exactly do you think about this variety show we are going to have? I think it's a really nice event that they have planned for us. Our fans have really been supportive of us, and it's good to thank them properly.” He said this with a smile.

Suho turned around to face him and nodded while beaming. “That's true. It's always nice to meet nice people! I just hope everyone can have a really great time together.”

Then, knocks came on the door.

“Hey! Hey! Suho! Sehun! Why are you guys taking so long? Suho! You are the leader! You should be the first!” It was Chanyeol's voice.

Suho chuckled as he rushed to change. “Okay! Okay! Sorry!” he chanted as he ran.

**

There was a knock on the door. The man within the room looked up from his stack of documents, not exactly pleased to be disturbed while he was still deep in thoughts organizing schedules.

“Sir, the results of the selections have been finalized.” A voice by the door told him, as the individual strode into the room carrying with him another stack of documents, each with a photograph printed on it, along with the basic information of eight different girls.

“We have already grouped them into the two groups as requested.”

The man quickly sifted through the papers, taking a glance at each piece of paper, before he smiled and nodded, putting it by the side of his desk for the time being.

“Very well done! Post the results up on the web as planned.”

**

“YUNA! YUNA! THE RESULTS ARE OUT! THE RESULTS ARE OUT!”

The very moment my sole stepped into the classroom, my friend Charmaine burst out from the corner of the classroom. All heads in the classroom turned to stare at her, while one or two male classmates here and there started rambling on how she was such a crazy fangirl, or how Korean pop was nothing so fanciful about, calling it crap and addressing both me and Charmaine as unappreciative of real music.

“IT'S OUT BUT I HAVE NO GUTS TO LOOK AT IT! PLEASE SAVE ME!”

Well, even though those guys are such bastards, they at least got the crazy part about Charmaine correct.

“Okay, I'd look at it and tell you if you got chosen.” I told her, even if I myself was in a state of turmoil. My heart was racing, hammering against my chest, as all my thoughts ran amok, flying all around. Will I get chosen? Or will I not get chosen? Does fairytales really exist that way? Is it about to start for me? Will I finally get to be somewhat different?

“No, wait! I want to look at it too! Don't leave me out!” Yes, don't forget, crazy.

I moved the mouse on her laptop and opened up the page on her browser. I held my breath. A list of names popped up on the screen. My eyes darted through the list, hoping to see something familiar, hoping to see something that will make me squeal in delight, but I only found myself scrolling down and down all the way to the end.

Even when I reached the end I still could not believe everything had ended just like that, and I kept on trying to scroll even further, foolishly hoping there would be more, a hidden page, more links to click on, but the page would not budge, and neither were the magical links in place.

It was then that I finally accepted everything.

I took in a breath then smiled. It was probably the only thing I was good at.

Pretense.

My friends have said this of me before, that I was the only one capable of smiling so naturally even if deep inside I was a complete mess, completely upset. My face never betrays my true emotions.

Be contented with your average life, Pei Yun. You can continue to spin your fairytales in your mind.

(A/N : Pei Yun is the real name, Yuna is her nickname. I actually feel no shame putting my real name on here! Probably because I hadn't exactly planned for everything to be published when I planned out everything, and thinking of other names is such a pain.)

No, I was not selected for the show.

I said it before, haven't I?

The more I crave for something, the more that something will be out of my grasp.

Just like now.

**