I survive mid-terms and such! Working on five hours of sleep a night for a whole week was difficult for me but I manage and tada~ I even got this out :) Most of my chapters will be long as a way to make up for the long absence ^^ I didn't see this coming but I just realize that I'm basically writing two stories (the past story with Hyunseung and the present). It's hard and the chapters may get messy later on so I'm just giving you guys a heads up ^^ Hello readers~ How are your days :3?

Note: This chapter is written in the present tense 

 

“Good morning Sunshine!” lights illuminated the room, sending a burst of fireworks on my eyelids. I rolled around, away from the tumult – Doojoon.

“It’s not morning yet, the sun isn’t up,” I slur in grumbles.

“Then let’s beat the sun,” he got louder. I spare him a look, he’s in his tracksuit. 

With a groan, I pleaded, “Please, spare me.”

With a sigh, he pulled my blanket away, leaving me in the cold. I curled deeper into a ball, trying to keep the warmth. “Mr. Captain of the senior soccer team, I was just a manager of the baseball team, go run with your soccer people.”

“Those were our old titles, come on,” he grabs my limb arm.

“I don’t even own any sport apparel,” I sit up with slump shoulders while rubbing my eye.

“I got you some yesterday; they’re in your closet. Now get ready in fifteen minutes.”

Before he left, he warned, “Don’t go back to sleep, as your brother, you have the tacit responsibility to listen to me.”

“Listening and complying are two different things!” I yell, as he chuckle while closing the door.

“You sound like you’re awake now, I’ll go make breakfast,” he yelled loud enough for me to hear.

With a sigh, I strut into my closet – well, half stomp just so Doojoon could hear my vexation. 

“Your idea of breakfast is protein bars?”

“I’m a caring person.”

“Yeah, very caring.”

He laughs, “Don’t worry, I’ll make breakfast afterwards.”

“You know, driving there kind of defeats the purpose of running.”

“Stop making excuses and get into the car, you’ll love it.”

He was right, I did love it. Not in love with running but the scenery’s breathtaking. A path paved for walking, running, cycling alongside the view of the ocean and makeshift waterfall. Jog through that, and we see stone walls and the ocean. Jog some more and there’s a forest with crisp dew and the ocean again. It almost lives up to par with the ocean at my old house – almost, not quite.

Soon, the ethereality slip away, and fatigue hit. “You know Air, your physique is horrible.” Doojoon slowed down while I was staggering to find the words.

Through heavy breathes and mouthful of water, I replied, “Like I said, you should have taken someone else.”

“A brother can’t bond with his sister?”

“There are other forms, like eating breakfast together, or watching late movies.” I look behind my shoulders, and there were other runners and cyclists or tourist enjoying the sight. I can’t get this thwarting feeling of being followed – or watch at the very least – out of my head. It felt creepy; the hairs on my skin rising at the slightest movement but it could be no more than paranoia.

“Is there a handsome guy behind us?” Doojoon looked back. I sent a light punch to his shoulder, and he laughed.

“Come on, there’s a pretty girl in front, you can get her number,” I run a little faster, making Doojoon catch up, all the while, trying to shake off the paranoia.

“I’ll drive you to school, as an award for jogging.”

“I don’t think I can walk after this,” I fan myself under the comforts of the shadows.

“You’ll live, stop complaining.”

“Dude, your brother’s rich.” Nia remarks after Doojoon drives off. I shrug, how was I supposed to respond? Thanks? I know? Okay?

“Prosperity only brings more stress.”

“I saw the mall the other day, it looks like it’s almost finish.” Kerin chips in.

“It’s near completion, I think.” Doojoon, CEO of the new mall, Horizon. He refers to it as his ‘baby,’ and since it was close to seeing the light of the world, he’s been preparing everything. He wants everything to be ‘perfect’ when Horizon opens. Thus, he spends long hours there, just working to attain the perfection. Perfection’s a flaw.

“Are you working again?” Nia asks, and I see her hand itch from the sensation to shop.

“Yeah, all week,” I sigh.”

“Make sure Doojoon’s nourishing you,” Kerin jokes.

“He thinks I’m studying at the library all week for the test.” I laugh; usually Doojoon would be well aware of my schedule more so than I, but to attain this perfection, little strings of workaholic complex weave a veil of negligent in his mind, clouding his vision.

“He must be tired,” Nia says.

“It can’t be helped, I don’t even think he notice that his birthday’s coming up.” The mental calendar appears in my mind, with the red X’s inch closer to the red circle around a particular date.

“He’ll love his gift.”

“Hopefully.”

“Airiss?”

“Yes?” I wince as my head comes in contact with the shelf.

“You’ve been working so hard, you can get off a little earlier,” Suwon, the boss of the bookstore says. “Are you okay?” she motions to the bump on my head. I feel my head throbbing from my pain but smile.

Suwon’s a nice lady (in her mid twenties) who opens the bookstore to avoid boredom. She doesn’t frequently come here so it’s just me with myself running the place. It’s like I'm the second boss. I likes Suwon and we sometimes eat dinner together.

“It’s okay; I have a little bit more until I’m finished.”

She laughs, “How about I treat you to dinner then?”

“It’s okay; I have dinner at home waiting for me.”

Suwon looks outside and chuckles, “It looks like you have to leave; your brother’s already here to pick you up.”

I looked up to see a car rolling in, and a waving Doojoon. “Can Chae Airiss possibly get off work early?” He ask her and she smiles.

“I told her she could get off work earlier but she’s persistent to stay.”

Doojoon looks at me, brows furrow. “Don’t work yourself to the bones.”

“I know, I’ll be in the car in five minutes. Be a good boy and wait there,” I say as I playfully push him out the door but in truth, I was embarrassed. It felt like a parent fetching their child from school, not a brother driving their sister home.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I would think you guys are dating,” she laughs, amuse at our blithe relationship.

“You can have him if you want; he’s rotting away at home – literally.”

“I’ll think about it.”

As much as I try to joke about it, and even if I shouldn’t be worrying about it, I am. There are times at night when I wonder, how is Doojoon going to find a girlfriend when he’s at home all the time? As much as I love him and would selfishly want to see him at home every day, the thought of him with a partner – whether it’s interim or everlasting – would ease me. I want to see him settle down. Possibilities are good, but they run out and I don’t want Doojoon’s to run out because of me.

“Two more days,” I tell myself as I walk through the hallway, cluster with bodies. It’s the time when class ends and people are either going home or going to another class. Sometimes, I find myself weaving through the crowd with ease. Just avoiding people, getting out of their way, it was instinct. If I could do it for life, then I would be a pro.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. I find the words bunch together to form an incoherent blob, articulacy plunging to the ground. I watch as it crash and disintegrate.

“Hey Kikwang.”

Relief.

“Hi Airiss.”

Awkward. I can’t stand this awkwardness. Especially not with Kikwang, the Kikwang who’s easygoing, talkative, the person who’s not awkward, and it’s funny how we’re awkward right now.

I regret it, sort of. Rejecting Kikwang, I wasn’t ready for this discomfort between us; I didn’t see it coming. It’s been weeks since it happened but nothing changed – that’s what we tell ourselves.

“So...uh, I heard that there’s a supply teacher for your art class.”

“Oh really? Which one?”

“The one that stutters.”

“L-l-like t-t-his?” I imitate and he laughs.

“You seem happy lately," he notices. 

“My brother’s birthday’s coming up so I’m working to get him a present.” I usually didn’t talk that much but mentions of Doojoon becomes an articulate stimulator.

“The one that sometimes comes to pick you up with his big sunglasses and arms cross?”

I laugh, “Yeah, he’s the one.”

“No offense, he’s scary.”

“None taken, he’s like that.”

“Are you going to go to the soccer game?”

I tried to hide the surprise, “The one today?”

He nods, and he’s trying to hide the hurt. Apparently, both of us are horrible liars. I swim through the memories, remembering vague fragments of this soccer game, trying to the timestamp. “The one that starts at 5, right?”

I see him smile, and I feel a little bit happy. Just a little bit. “I might be a little late, are the other ones coming?”

“Nah, they have classes or work.”

“Oh.”

“My class is here,” he stops, and I look at it.

“I didn’t know you were interested in criminology.”

“I want to be a forensic psychologist, so yeah.” He shrugs. I stare at him and the sign. I pass by the sign almost every day, and today’s the first day I actually saw it, I actually stop and spare a thought about this sign that situated itself in the background. Like Kikwang, someone I see almost every day, almost six months’ worth of being acquaintance and today I learn what he actually wants to do with his life, I learn that he likes to play soccer and is on the team. If I ask him a question about me, he’ll know but if he were to do the same, I wouldn’t know and we’ll go back to hiding our hurt and surprise.

“I promise I’ll be at your game today.” Kikwang smiles and I feel happy knowing that my promise could bring such spurges of blithe smiles.

ll

I didn’t try to hide the discomfort. Noise usually bothers me, especially repetitive bantering ones – the sound of people cheering at a game, dedicated people per se. That’s probably why I wasn’t so supportive of my high school’s sports teams; I only watch selected games – the ones Doojoon took part in.

“Does it bother you?” Kikwang ask.

I shake my head, lying. “Not really, you should go ahead, it’s almost time.”

The coach’s bickering proves my point as Kikwang looks back at me and the coach, trying to decide where to go.

“Go,” I insist as I give his arm a light push.

“Alright, remember to sit at a spot where you can see me,” he urges and that leads me to give him another push with more force.

“Good luck.”

Kikwang jogs to the coach with a laugh. I find a spot with ease, considering we were pretty early. They were in the midst of practicing, and I stare at everyone. The names aren't matching with the faces. The only one I recognize is Kikwang. I watch as he runs around the field, like an energizer, laughing and doing weird handshakes with the others. His teammates were drawn to him – quite naturally. 

The game starts with a disappointment with the opponent leading with one all. It stayed like that until the halftime breakcame. The coach seem frustrated, shouting until his veins were shown, and face as red as a tomato. If it weren’t for the tense atmosphere, I would be drawing his face in my sketchbook just to spark laughter later on.

The second half starts with me updating the others – Junhyung, Kerin, Yoseob and Nia – about the score so far. Kikwang scans the crowd, and I catch his gaze. I smile a small one and give him a thumbs up. He smiles with his eyes and jogs to his position. I hear some people screaming and I shift a bit to see the girls from the corner of my eyes. They were laughing in glee about something, and I follow their gaze back to Kikwang. “He was staring at me!” “He smiled!” 

I turn my head and saw a bunch of girls and some guys following Kikwang with their eyes. He seem to be one of the important players or so I overhear one of them say. I turn back to the game and I see Kikwang looking at me again. With a small hand motion, I shoo him back to the game. He gives me a confident nod and races off.

I press a light finger against my ear, trying to drown out the cheers as our team scores a goal – thanks to Kikwang’s assist. I stare back at the crowd – at the girls, some with their hair iron to perfection and pretty faces – and back to Kikwang, and think of myself. It doesn't make sense, it doesn’t add up.

Why me?

The game ends, with the team leading a 2 to 1 score. Kikwang couldn’t hide the happiness as the teams shake hands. He seems to be a compact mix of fuse bits of jocundity and happiness. I smiled, more vivid and expressive than before as I went to congratulate him. It was a difficult choice to make, and I debated with myself to leave or wait. It felt right to wait for him because, well, we’re friends and it would be sad to see your friend leave you without a word. Waiting wasn’t an option either, since I had to work. So the other option was to go, to initiate. I didn’t expect Kikwang to run into me with a vehement hug though.

“We won! Air, we won!” he screamed, and I was lost. I think he felt me tense up because he releases me – almost immediately.

“Sorry about that, I –”

“Congrats,” I said and fake a smile, “You played really well.”

He beamed, “Thanks, to be honest, I didn’t think we’d win today. We lost to the opponent in a game before, and trust me, they were good.”

He rambles on, and I didn’t have the heart to stop him. He seems so happy and it was contagious. If there was a second hand embarrassment, then there’s second hand happiness. “You did good though, the crowd was crazy.”

“Sorry to interrupt this lovely moment, but Kwangie, we’re going to go out and eat,” his coach stops, looks at me and grins too blatantly. “You can bring your friend if you want,” he adds. Kikwang rolls his eyes, then his mouth’s open to clarify our relationship.

Another teammate interjected, “Yeah, bring her along!” I see Kikwang elbowing the guy.

If I didn’t have to work, I would have rejected the offer anyway. It was awkward, eating, celebrating in a crowd with strangers. “I have to work today.” 

“Oh,” the teammate responded. His face seems familiar, but the only name that was appropriate was Kikwang’s teammate.

“I can drive you there,” Kikwang said.

“It’s okay, work’s nearby. Good job on the win, and –” I pause, lost. “Have fun at dinner. Bye!”

With a quick turn, I strut away – embarrass.

Kikwang feels like every time he takes a step forward in their relationship – his relationship with Airiss – he gets pulled two steps backwards. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t suppose to work backwards. Their relationship is supposed to get better, to the point of good friends; not awkward strangers. Sometimes, when Airiss not conscious, he’ll try to get multiple steps but when she realizes it, a force pulls him back five steps, plunging him onto hard gravel.

“Isn’t that Chae Airiss?” Another friend, Junsu, said.

He nods, “You know her?”

“We went to the same high school, I know her brother. I’m surprise to see her; she never watches a tournament unless it’s her brother’s.”

Kikwang pulls his eyes away from Airiss. “Really?”

“Yeah, I wonder why she’s here.”

Kikwang reconsiders the two steps backwards this time. Maybe they took a step forward after all.

I stare at the blank canvas, the paintbrush still set on the table after two hours. After work, homework and dinner, Doojoon decided that a good night’s sleep was needed for tomorrow’s meeting. He quickly retreated to his room, leaving me in my own room, pondering.

For Doojoon’s birthday, I decide that a painting’s going to be his present. It’s been a while since I sat down and just painted. The idea usually sprouted into my mind like a delicate flower, and soon the process of blossoming wasn’t far. This time, a bud wasn’t seen.

I close my eyes, and tried to recollect Doojoon’s center of ecstasy. From work to family, one particular thing struck out. Not only did it affect him, but I got drawn into it. I nod my head, satisfied.

“Maybe...” I took the brush and align it with the make-belief horizon line. “It might work,” I tell myself.

The next two weeks consist of jogging in the morning (Thanks to Doojoon, the human alarm clock), more work (I get to hear Suwon’s voice more often), and surprisingly, the annoying trepidation of being followed.

“Don’t you feel like,” I pause, “That we’re being followed?”

Doojoon looks around, “I don’t think so.”

He stops jogging and I catch up to him. “Then ignore it, I’m probably being paranoid.”

“Okay...” he says. “By the way, you’re usually not so willing to jog in the morning, are you sure there’s no handsome guy here?”

I laugh, “Why do you keep bringing up this guy that doesn’t exist?”

“Is there another reason why you’re here then?”

“A sister can’t bond with her brother?”

Doojoon laughs, “I’ll try to believe that.”

It was true, partially. The other reason is the lovely sunrise every morning that my eyes try to burn into my memory.

I wasn’t paranoid after all. When I came to school the next day, without Kerin or Nia – I wanted to get to the art class early to ask a few questions – I was met with a swarm of delving reporters.

When they got a sight of me, they practically race towards me. I was baffled with the microphones and flashes on my face as my mind tried to comprehend what was going on. “Miss Chae, how long have you known Yoon Doojoon?” One of them asks, and I stumble for the words. Pop quizzes weren't my forte but this one should have been easy.

Suddenly, the principal came out. “Reporters are always welcome but if they disrupt our student’s learning, then you would have to leave.” He said, and I stood behind him, still trying to understand what was going on.

“Principal Nam, can I ask what’s going on?” I ask as we walk down the hallway.

“We’re not sure either, but your brother called early this morning, telling us about the reporters and to get you out of the scene as soon as possible.”

I nodded, so Doojoon knew and I was kept in the dark. Again.

In class, everyone stared and whispered. For a meticulous reason, I felt like it was center around me. It didn’t help that the murmurs would stop when I turn around or when I was a mere meter radius of everyone. I suspected that Doojoon gave out some warning about keeping the secrecy of whatever happened. It shouldn’t even be a suspicion but a certainty. To make things worse, I’m not in any of my friends’ classes this morning so the rare lunch break would hold the answer.

“You look photogenic,” Dongwoon said, giving me the coffee.

“Pardon?” I ask, feeling the sharp heat of the coffee sip through the walls of the cup.

“You don’t know?” he asks, and I blew it. The secrecy thing’s killing me, mocking me for my lack of knowledge. How was it possible that something happen to me and yet, I don’t even have a remote idea of what it is.? It was frustrating.

“Dongwoon, can you please tell me what it is?” I didn’t mean to sound angry or frustrated at him but the hurt on his face prove me wrong. “Sorry Dongwoon, it’s not you. It’s –”

“It’s okay,” he looks around for a bit and stops when he finds what he’s looking for. He points to it, and I follow his finger. I gawk at it, surprise, astonished, honestly baffled at the innumerable emotions running through me.

There, in the girl’s hands was a magazine and on the magazine was a picture of Doojoon and I, on one of our morning jogs and another snapshot of us entering the house with the headline: “Heartthrob Yoon Doojoon finally settled down!”

I don’t know what was worst, the fact that they think Doojoon and I are in a relationship or him being labelled as“heartthrob.

“You’re like a mini-celebrity,” Kerin throws out as the people continue to stare and avoid. It wasn’t exasperating, but potentially troublesome.

“Don’t think I want to be known as my brother’s girlfriend.” I laugh at the paradox.

“That’s true,” Nia snorts. “I was going to tell you but you left early in the morning and your phone was off.”

I check my phone and true to her words, it was off from work last night.

“Why don’t you clarify that he’s your brother?” Kerin asks.

I shrug, “I think Doojoon has a reason for not explaining everything yet. I don’t want to ruin his plan.”

“You know your brother very well.”

“Of course, he’s my brother.”

I guess it didn’t help when Doojoon’s car came rolling in. Junhyung gave me a helpless shrug when I look back, and Nia urge me to go. I did what was told and sat on the passenger’s seat.

“How are you dealing with it so far?” Doojoon ask, adjusting his sunglasses – as if they’ll help.

“Pretty good, except for the murmurs and stares,” I said, rather sardonically.

“Come on, it isn’t that bad,” he said, eyes on the road. I staredat the road. “I don’t want to announce anything because, well, you know the mall’s opening up soon and I don’t want the rumours to get to Singapore that there’s trouble already.”

I exhale, “I know. I guess I just have to get used to it.” It was for Doojoon’s sake.

“Thanks for understanding,” he smiles.

“No problem, so how’s the mall coming along?” I directed the conversation into a more trivial sense. I guess both of us needed the sense of insouciantly.

“Doojoon, you didn’t tell the public that Airiss is your sister?” Jihyun ask, throwing the magazine on his desk. She didn’t have to; there was already one inside his drawer.

Doojoon sighed, “I already called the magazine and told them. They’re going to issue a statement about its validity under my warning.”

Jihyun stared at Doojoon. He warned the company, and his warnings weren’t to be taken lightly but he seems to be hiding something. “Are they going to say that Airiss’ your sister? Or just say that the information’s false?”

“Just say that the information’s false.”

“Why?”

“You know about my past, Jihyun.” Doojoon said, his eyes lost and depthless. Jihyun nodded. It wasn’t a matter thatDoojoon prefer to talk about but Jihyun knew that Doojoon has a reason.

“I don’t go around telling people that I have a sister because they’ll delve into our pasts and eventually, they’ll publish everytihing. I don’t really mind, it’s my past but Airiss... I don’t know how she’ll cope with it. She can’t stand the murmurs and looks of pity, I know that. So the most I can do is this.”

Jihyun nodded, understandingly. He was doing whatever he could to protect his sister. He didn’t care about the company’s affair, not when it came to his sister. Jihyun had always envied Airiss for having Doojoon as her brother. He was perfect – well, sometimes. “You’re a good brother.”

He smiled. It was bigger than the one he had when he found out that he was being promoted, bigger than the one when Chairman Hong told him that he's in charge of the mall project. “Thanks.”

“Airiss, it’s time to go.” I turn around to see Yoseob sticking his head in the doorway with his adorable smile.

I move aside, “What do you think of it so far?”

Yoseob looks at my canvas and gasps – rather exaggeratedly. “It’s beautiful.”

I arch a brow. “I can’t say much since I’m not an artist and I don’t have the correct vocabulary but your painting...this time –” he bits his lower lip, “It looks alive with the sunset or sunrise. The colors really blend in but at the same time, they’re dynamic.”

I smile, Yoseob wasn’t known for much but his honesty’s a given fact. “Thanks, I’m glad.”

“Is it for your brother?” I nod. Hopefully, Doojoon’ll like it.

“Your brother’s lucky,” he notes. I’m lucky to have him.

“Any other comments?”

“Hmm, the trees’ shadows are really well done. The ocean looks amazing with the orange overcast and I don’t know, but I feel like this painting defines you Airiss. When someone sees it, they go, “Wow, this is definitely Airiss’ work!” You have your own trademark.”

I nod, Yoseob’s speaking gibberish now. “Where are the others?”

He shrugs, “Nia said she ended class early, and I guess Kwangie and Junrin – Junhyung and Kerin’s pet name – left for work.”

“I guess it’s just both of us then.”

“I hope you weren’t expecting a car ride home.”

I laugh, “Buses are fine too.”

“You’re not going to take the painting home?”

I shook my head, “I don’t want him to see it yet. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Our ride home consisted of Yoseob blabbing on about the psychology unit and how he wanted to just sleep through today’s lesson. There was laughter string here and there thanks to him. Though, I think it was intentional. Through, the whole mess that happen in the past year, I never realize how much I miss this frivolous relationship. Just laughing with a friend on a bus ride, when was the last time I experienced such a luxury?

“See Doojoon, because you haven’t been sleeping all week, you’re sick now.” I cross my arms, frowning, “And on the day of your birthday too.”

“Airiss, you’ve been nagging me about it all morning. It’s my birthday, cut some slack.”

I frown, and he sighs. He got up from his seat and pinches my cheeks, much to my dismay. “I know you’re worried and...disappointed but it can’t be helped.”

Then he enters a coughing fit. “We’re going to the doctors,” I say through his weak protests muffle by the coughs.

“Come on, it’s just a cold. It’ll go away.”

“Doojoon, you’re not a doctor, you don’t know that.”

“You’re not either.”

I rolled my eyes, “Stop acting like a kid. We’re going, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

He sighed and grumbled along the lines of, “And it’s my birthday today.”

On his birthday, Doojoon’s stubborn or it’s because he’s sick and doesn't like to be babied. He argued when I told him I was driving, argue even in the passenger seat and continue to argue on the road. “You’re so stubborn,” Doojoon rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not like you aren’t, and I deal with you every day.”

“Yoon Doojoon,” the secretary called out.

“It’s your turn,” I stand up beside him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you’re coming in with me.” 

“Knowing you, if it’s serious, you’re probably going to hide it from me so you force me to come in with you.”

I see him clenching his fist, resisting the urge to flail his arms in frustration.

“Remember to take your medicine after eating,” I hand him the bag of pills.

“I heard the doctor, Airiss.”

“Doojoon, try being positive on your birthday.”

He fakes a smile, “It’s hard, being force to go to the doctor by your baby sister isn’t a happy thing.” He put emphasis on ‘baby sister.’ I roll my eyes; pride still means something to him.

“I’ll drive you to work.”

Work’s still work, even if it’s your birthday – or so Doojoon tells me that morning. Doojoon wasn’t dying sick but he still has his coughing fits, and sore throat but he’ll cope. Still, having that knowledge didn’t ease me one bit. Especially since he has a meeting today.

“Oh my gosh, Airiss. Please, spare me with some of my dignity – especially on my birthday.” Doojoon’s face is tantamount to the one he put on a month ago when his favourite soccer team just lost a measly soccer match.

“Pride isn’t everything Doojoon. Plus, if you’ve listen to me then you would be healthy, not dizzy and sick.” I walk to the car, pressing the unlock button. A grin lit my face at the click; I open the driver’s seat. Doojoon stood outside, deadpan.

I rolled down the window, “Doojoon, I will leave you here if you don’t get in.” A smile broke out, and I realize how similar Iam to Doojoon. It feels like our positions reverse and it’s nice to see Doojoon going through what I always go through.

With a sigh, Doojoon got in. Doojoon started nagging me about senseless things to kill the time. When we got to the building, Doojoon scans the place. I roll my eyes, “Doojoon, having your sister drive you to work isn’t the end of the world.”

He sends a little glare. When he gets out, I roll down the window. “Doojoon!” I call out and he looks back, rather annoyed. “Happy Birthday! I love you.”

He smiles, “Thanks, I’m expecting the best gift from you.”

“Chae Airiss, please come down to the office,” the secretary’s voice rang over the intercom. The teacher gave me a nod when I looked at him for permission.

“Airiss?” The secretary ask when I came through the glass doors.

I nodded. “Is there something wrong, Mrs. Cho?”

She shook her head, “Someone found your keys and handed it to us.” She brought the set of keys dangling in mid-air, with the yellow flower keychain still attach. I gaped and dug into my bag, and sure enough, the keys weren’t there.

“Thanks so much, do you happen to know who brought it here?” When the keys were back in my hands, I felt the warmth of it. Someone’s been holding onto it pretty tightly, I note.

The keys weren’t labelled, “Chae Airiss,” Only Nia, Kerin, Junhyung, Yoseob, Dongwoon and maybe Kikwang would know it’s mine.

“We’re not sure but the student said that someone told him that it’s yours and to bring it to the office.” She went back to typing on her computer, a subtle sign for me to leave.

“Alright, thanks Mrs. Cho.”

After homework was finished, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of Doojoon and his wellbeing. I took out my phone and dial a few numbers. “Hello Doojoon?”

“Yeah,” he punctuates with a cough.

“You’re still sick?”

“Yeah, but it’s gotten better.”

I stared at the clock, five to four. “Can you make it home?”

He stays quiet for a bit, “I’m sorry Airiss, I don’t think I can. Even if it’s my birthday, there’s still work.”

Even if birthdays are annually, this is the first one when we actually get to spend it together after six years of separation. Their first major celebration of any sort and Doojoon can’t make it. I couldn't help but sound disappointed when I responded. Even if they celebrate it together the next day, it isn’t the same. “I’ll be fine, eat well, okay?”

He nodded, “I’ll try.”

“I’m going to go now,” he coughs again, “Bye, sleep well.”

“Bye Doojoon, don’t overwork yourself.” We hung up and I could tell Doojoon was living off medicine – not food. I close my eyes; maybe birthdays don’t have to be extravagant. I smiled; maybe I didn’t have to celebrate his birthday tomorrow. I spend the next five minutes rummaging online for recipes and dialed the familiar phone number.

“Hello Jihyun? Can I ask you for a favor?”

A harmless trip to the supermarket, that’s what I thought it would be. Not an encounter with the shreds of my past. I’m stump between the two chickens to choose from, they were different in ways I couldn’t understand.

“Airiss?” I hear my name, but the unfamiliarity struck me. My mind turn into a quick guessing game but no names came. I look up and saw a male, a blond around my age. I look harder into his eyes, trying to find the recognition but none came.

“Oh come on, you don’t remember me?”

I shook my head, “I’m sorry…” I stare into the stranger’s basket and see the magazine with Doojoon and I as the cover. I felt embarrass all of a sudden.

“Jiyong, with the dog, Gaho, remember?” He smiles, and like a broken dam, the memories come spilling in uncontrollably and I start choking.

I walk, hand in hand with Hyunseung, not too far from the house, just a nice stroll. It was almost a routine now. Hyunseung was talking about the weather, it was suppose to be boring but he made it sound like he was watching a mystery thriller. I couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” I singsong while swinging our hands.

He stops walking and pulls me back. “Seriously, why?”

I crash into his chest, not roughly though. That’s what the layers were for. “Seriously, nothing.”

“You guys are cute,” a voice interjects. The voice was loud enough for both of us to hear but it only came for a second as the jingling sound sounded like thunder striking. My fingers latch onto Hyunseung’s arm and inch behind him, out of anxiety, panic. I look up and stare at the stranger, and couldn’t help but gawk at his hair which was once chestnut brown, now pitch black. I didn’t forget his dog either; the one at the beach, the time Hyunseung force me into the water, the day I let Hyunseung borrow Doojoon’s gym shirt but the only difference is that the boy’s on a leash – thank goodness.

“Hey Hyunseung.”

Hyunseung nods, “What’s up Jiyong?” They do a secret handshake and I stare at them, perplex. Hyunseung’s friends with Jiyong, who happens to live a few houses away from me – yet, I didn’t know his name until now and here’s Hyunseung and Jiyong with their secret guy thing.

“Risu,” he nods at me and I respond with a slight bow.

“Airiss,” Hyunseung corrects him.

“Hello Jiyong.”

“How –”

His dog growls and I flinch on instinct. Jiyong notices and Hyunseung gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. Jiyong bends down to scoop his dog up in a hug. He’s considerate, I note.

“How are you?”

“I’m good, and I think you’re doing incredibly well,” he wiggles his brow at Hyunseung and I. I don’t shrivel behind Hyunseung but I send Jiyong furrow brows.

“Jiyong, cut it out,” Hyunseung chuckles, while giving Jiyong a small push.

“You’re so defensive,” Jiyong laughs. “Well, I won’t be bothering you too since I know how barbaric Airiss can get.” He sends Hyunseung a little wink, leaving me dumbfounded.

Jiyong flees before I could retort anything, before Hyunseung could protest. “I’m barbaric?”

Hyunseung laughs nervously, “I was joking.”

I pinch his cheeks, “Tell me what you said.”

He holds my hand, pulling it away from his cheeks. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”

“Verbatim.”

He sighs, “Okay,” and starts clearing his throat.

“I said that Chae Airiss’ is the kindest, and most caring person I’ve ever met. I’m really happy to meet her and that I love her, very, very much.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I’m saying it to you right now and that’s all that matters, right?”

“You’re so corny,” I smiled.

“That’s all I get?” Hyunseung looked at me, and I stared into his eyes, knowing his motives too well.

“No Hyunseung, I’m not calling you oppa.”

“It’s been a while, Jiyong. I didn’t recognize you with your blond hair.” I force a smile. Jiyong, the person who knows Hyunseung and I for our love, not our past, not our future, just as Hyunseung and Airiss.

“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t move, you didn’t even say bye.” He tries to say it as a joke but I understood the underlying message. I had to move, I had to get away. There wasn’t time for a goodbye, just enough time to flee.

I stared at Jiyong, the last time I saw him, he had black hair and before that, brown hair, now he's blonde. His hair color changes a lot, almost like the seasons.

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay, you should visit sometimes.”

“I’ll try.” I hear the rain outside signaling the arrival of a storm, an obstacle in my plan.

“Sorry Airiss, I’m going to go first. See you later, hopefully.”

“Bye Jiyong.” My heart beats wildly against my ribcage. I clench my hands in tight fists; my fingernails leaving crescents deep on my palms.

I bit my lower lips until I feel like the skin would break. “Jiyong…”

He turns back with a raise brow, “Hmm?”

“How’s...” I pause, “Hyunseung?”

He looks back, just as surprise as I was. He thinks for a while, sincerity running through his eyes and a debate of some sort. He smiles faintly, “He’s coping.” Coping, he’s not good, he’s not great, just coping.

I feel the slight sting in my eye, and nod. “Airiss, I hope you’re doing well.”

“I am, Jiyong, thank you –” I pause, contemplating. “Take care of Hyunseung.”

Jiyong gapes at me, strangely. “I will Airiss.”

“And –” I try to stare through the light coat of tears, “Don’t tell Hyunseung that you saw me or that I asked about him.”

He stares and nods, understandingly. “Okay.” If I can’t be there for Hyunseung, knowing that Jiyong is there for him is enough.

The windshield wipers intervene with my vision every second. It was annoying but not as annoying as the rain’s being right now. It was coming down heavily, pounding the car roof. I see locks of blonde again, holding an umbrella.

I rolled down the window, “Jiyong, get in.”

He looks at me and doesn’t hesitate. He does, in fact, stare at the interior of the car, gawking at every aspect from the steering wheels to the seats. I knew what he was thinking, after seeing the magazine cover; he probably thought that I was in a relationship with Doojoon, the rich heartthrob. Even with this speculation, I made no move to clarify it. Sometimes, it was better that way.

“You still live in the usual house, right?”

He nods, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

A traffic jam hits, with everyone being extra cautious because of the rain. “It looks like it’ll be a while.”

“It’s okay,” Jiyong laugh, awkwardly. “I should feel bad for bothering you.”

“It’s no problem; it’s a sorry for moving.”

At the red light, Jiyong looked at the buttons; trying to decipher something. “What are you looking for?”

“Would it be okay to turn on the heat?”

“Yup,” I stared at the buttons, unfamiliar with it myself. “Umm, it should be this one.” I pressed it, and thankfully, I was right.

“This isn’t your car, is it?” Jiyong chuckles.

I laugh, “Sort of but I usually sit in the passenger’s seat.”

It was the green light and I started driving again. After a while of silence, and a few small chats, Jiyong with his tightened jaws – of frustration – breaks out.

“Airiss, I know this is personal and out of my league, but I can see…” He chews on his lips, “That you still love Hyunseung and I for one, know that Hyunseung still loves you. Your new boyfriend probably has better standards than Hyunseung –” He gestures to the car, “But as a friend, I want to see both of you happy.”

I sigh. It wasn’t unexpected; Jiyong’s a caring person who cares for his friends. “Jiyong, I’m not materialistic like the magazine makes me. That ‘heartthrob’ is my brother.”

Jiyong stays quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, totally understandable.”

“The complications back then don’t look that bad; you could have easily overcome it. It’s mind-blogging, I understand but if you like each other, then everything will work out. I don’t want to see both of you like this…”

I smile meekly at Jiyong, “I appreciate it, Jiyong. But I don’t know, I don’t think it’ll work out anymore.”

I teeter-totter from my left foot to my right foot and pressed the 48th button. I hold the bag of three hours’ worth of cooking close to me, feeling the heat spread. My eyes look at the rows of monotonous-colored shoes. From ballet flats to dress shoes, they are assorted types. I could feel it, call it a sixth sense, but I could feel people’s stares. It’s her, the one on the magazine with Doojoon. 

It was like a pyramid, the aristocrats were the only ones at the top, only a few of them. Doojoon was one of them, Jihyun, chairman Hong would sometimes visit and take over an empty room and a few other notable people. It was rare for someone like me to visit, a new face.

As we went higher and higher, the people in the elevator started disappearing one by one, except for me. I look up a bit, at everyone in the elevator. The 48st floor hit, and it seem like everything stop, like it was planned out. It wasn’t more than a second, but they stared at each other, waiting for someone to take the first step. Usually the person with the highest status stepped out and everyone waited, out of respect, like a king to step out while the servants followed.

I took a step out and like a domino effect, everyone followed behind. It was strange, how this ranking worked. Thankfully, everyone went to their respected rooms. Leaving me with the secretary ahead.

“Hello.”

She didn’t look up, a phone between her shoulder with a pen in her hand. “Yes?”

“I’m here to see Yoon Doojoon.”

She fiddles with the papers, “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” she sighed, still not looking at me. “Can you mention that I came?”

She nodded, kind of annoyed. “What’s your name?”

“Chae Airiss.”

Then she looked up and her jaws drop. A look of surprise drew, then replaced with worry then I couldn’t see her face because she stood up and bowed. “I’m so sorry Miss Chae, head this way to Mr.Yoon’s office.”

“…Okay?” I followed her to a glass door with the nameplate, “CEO Yoon Doojoon.” I motion for her to move back and she complies, strangely.

I see Doojoon, his face muffled by Kleenex. “Doojoon, it's dinner time.” I bring the bags of food up.

He looks up and smiles, with his red nose. “You’re the best.”

He stacks the papers away, clearing his desk. “So we have some congee, water, some juice, and some other stuff.”

“All insipid stuff.” He wrinkles his nose.

I rolled my eyes, “You’re sick, you probably can’t taste anything anyway.”

“It’s my birthday though,” but he shrugs and unscrews the lid of the thermos.

“Did you make this?” He points to the congee. 

I nodded, unraveling the blind around the curtains. It wasn’t too dark that the stars peek out from the veil of sunlight, but it wasn’t too bright that the sun overcast the sky. The sun was almost setting, painting the sky a pastel shade of orange, pink,and yellow, like flames that flicker across the sky.

“See, even the sunset is giving us its beauty on your birthday,” I stare at the ants at the bottom. Or people. They were tiny. And if I look up, I see billboards, and if I look higher, I see the sky, the infinite sky.

“There’s a sunset every day.”

“Doesn’t it look more beautiful today?”

He spares it a long pensive look, “Yeah, it does.”

He eats some of the congee and he’s unhappy. “Couldn’t you have added chicken or something?”

“Plain congee’s the best, keep eating sick one.”

“You eat too,” he points to the food.

“Already ate,” I remember the saltiness of crackers.

“You’re still hungry, congee takes at least three hours to make and –” He looks at his watch, “It’s almost three hours and a half since you called. Eat.”

I loosen the lid of the soup thermos and dug in. “Your cooking isn't that bad.”

“Be lucky, you’re one of the few individuals that get to taste it.”

“It’s a privilege since I’m your brother.”

With the pretext of going to the washroom, I make Doojoon lead me. I quickly make the signal for the security guard.

After fifteen minutes of stalling – which consisted of pacing back and forth with frequent glances at the watch – I hear Doojoon banging on the door. “Air, is everything okay?”

I turn on the tap, “Yeah, be there in a minute.” I hear him grumble something, and chuckle. Impatient as ever.

When I open the door, I meet his ostensible impatience. “Airiss, what took you so long in the washroom?”

“Did anyone ever tell you to chill? Because you need to, desperately.” I punctuate with a laugh.

He rolls his eyes and chuckles. I stare at the clock, hoping that fifteen minutes was enough time.

Fifteen minutes was enough time to set up. When we came in, the room was lit up with streamers and a cake sat in the middle of the room with a burning candle. Doojoon stood there, touched, completely frozen.

“Happy Birthday!” I smile.

He turned towards me, emotions racing in his eyes. Soon, his eyes started to water. “Thanks Air.”

“Don’t be such a sap,” I lightly punch his shoulder. He still remain faze.

“The security guard and Jihyun helped out as well.” Today’s the first day in a long time that I finally saw Doojoon emotionally struck. He wasn’t just smiles and laughter, but raw-er feelings. I don’t know how to describe it but it made me happy, to see him so…happy. It’s a crazy logic but the heat radiating from my stomach proved it.

“You really shouldn’t have…” Doojoon said, glancing at his presents. He stared at the painting of the sunrise from our usual jogging site to his customize track suit to a belt. The three items equaling to a month’s worth of working overtime.

“I know, I really shouldn’t have.” I joke and Doojoon sends a little glare. I laugh.

“You like it, don’t you?” I glance at the customized track suit and remembered the long hours of describing it to the manufactures and the frequent urges to pull my hair out. A long and tedious process but the output – track suit – was worth it. A royal blue color with his names on the back with pockets and other features that he wanted but most of the track suitslack (namely, the extra pockets). 

“Did that take you a long time?” He pointed to the painting, marveling it.

I shrug, “Not really.” Just a week of planning it, and the three weeks fretting over every miniscule point but he didn’t need to know.

“Thanks Airiss, thank you so much.” He pulled me into a hug, which I return. “Happy Birthday Doojoon.” I kiss him lightly on the cheek, thankful for the day my loving brother, Doojoon was born.

Doojoon whistles while twirling the keys around his index finger, glad that the mall was close to opening. The late nights and wearying meetings were coming to an end. But it only led to more work in the future, and this was just the beginning but the fact that he could overcome the beginning meant that he could survive until the end – or so, he hope.

He sees an unfamiliar figure outside their house, camouflage from the neighboring trees. Reporters, he thought with an added eye roll. He approaches the figure with a rather intrepid appeal, out of care for his sister. After the magazine article, he distinctly remember giving them and other companies a warning of legal actions if anyone of them disrupt his sister’s social life. With a heavy hand, he taps the man on the shoulder.

His features immediately twisted into a softer one, one of more respect for the person in front of him. The impeding wave of shock didn’t go unnoticed.

“Dad?” 

----

This chapter's more of a filler, the main purpose is trying to move the plot line ahead. I don't know why, I'm not entirely happy with the outcome. The feeling's not there and I don't know, I'm not happy with it T__T Your opinions though? 

Shockeenycee: Thanks for your comment and I'm glad you like the ending ^^ 

Halimalikescrice: Aww, thanks for your kind words ^^~ I'm honestly really touch :) I'm glad I didn't disappoint you ~ Yeah, I felt like their feelings were kind of abrupt, especially Hyunseung's but I needed to push the storyline along ;A; Hopefully the events later on makes up for it! Thanks for commenting and I hope you enjoy this chapter!