“What the absolute do you think you’re doing?” The caustic remark slices through the air like an arrow. The boy turns to see a petite girl dressed casually in the school sports uniform, leaning her dark mop of hair against the railing as if she’s oblivious to the fact that he’s going to jump. Something about her nonchalance irks him and he feels his own pride taking over his common sense.

“I wasn’t going to jump,” he snaps back and she smiles a soft, wistful smile. It only lasts for a second but it was the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. He looks back again and her face has contorted itself into a grimace.

“There are only three reasons for coming onto the roof,” she reasons coolly, as if unaware of the fact she’s speaking to the school’s “King”. She pauses for a bit, taking her sweet time as she stares into the distance. The balcony overlooks the school and the girl takes in the fresh air, admiring the vibrant green in the colour of the football fields. “Either to self-reflect, to take a nap or to escape.”

The word escape echoes in his mind painfully as he refuses to tear his gaze away. His pride prevents him from losing a battle of wit to a mere girl. He’s the school’s most coveted bachelor, he even has fan-boys swarming at his feet, an entire army of fan-girls willing to pick up his crap for the tiniest, fleeting glance.  So he decides to retort even though he knows he’s engaging in a battle he’s going to lose. “What would you know?”

“Nothing,” she remarks simply, still gazing into distance. She’s now taken a sitting stance, leaning her back against flimsy railings. “If you have nothing to do, then why don’t you go to class then, oh almighty king?”

He had planned on staying on the roof much longer, thank you very much. The idea that he at least had something he could control in his pitiful life comforted him and the fact that a mere step over the edge would catapult him into an entirely different world left him breathless with excitement. So he decides to reply with an innocent answer. “I like it up here.”

“Well so do I,” she replies with a impervious smile, taunting him. It’s obvious she doesn’t believe him. “You can’t always win.”

The gentle afternoon sunlight reflects off a tiny gold badge she has pinned onto her collar and catches his eye. Song Hyemi. The name clicks in his muddled mind and within a sea of confused thoughts, he’s able to pick out her name from thousands. She is the school freak, a conscientious student and completely unapproachable. He is surprised by her soft, brown locks and sweet, rosy cheeks. Song Hyemi is undeniably beautiful.

“You’re pretty,” he blurts. Most girls would find this kind of bluntness attractive.

“You’re lying to yourself,” she chuckles bitterly. “You have swarms of girls rotating around you like little moons. I’m nothing compared to them.”

He’s rendered speechless by her blatantly honest comment so he decides to shut up for a bit and enjoy view. As he hauls himself up from the floor, he notices the view for the first time in his life and his breathing grows quick and shallow in awe. The robes of autumn have spread themselves over the entire campus, basking the normally drab, grey structures in a gentle, golden light. Her soft voice interrupts his thoughts. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it is,” he admits reluctantly. He smiles and reaches for her hand. “By the way, the name’s Kris.”

“I know,” she chuckles dryly eyeing the hand but refusing to shake it. “Who wouldn’t?”

“You will be here tomorrow right?” He asks her on impulse. The question hangs uncomfortably in the air before she shrugs her shoulders.

“The view’s nice.”

Kris stands a little closer to the edge when he hears her arrival, just to see if she cares for him even the least. His dimmest hopes are shattered when she strolls onto the roof, hands shoved deeply into her pockets, her ears plugged with ear-phones. Her eyes are closed as she indulges in the serene silence and it’s quite obvious she’s trying to ignore him. Kris opens his mouth and coughs politely. “Ahem.”

“Pleased to see me?” she teases gently, still not opening her eyes. He almost scoffs at her ridiculous remark but stops himself at the last second. The mere idea that he could harbour any concern for an absolute freak stirred up butterflies in his stomach. She sighs and her eyes snap open. “I guess not.”

Kris notices for the first time her eyes are a brilliant golden-brown and he feels his heart quake in his chest as it beats feverishly against his rib-cage. Hyemi stretches herself out, her body lean and flexible like a cat’s. She gives a bitter laugh. “How could I expect the King to like an outcast?”

He’s silenced by her words and for a moment, he almost feels sorry for her. She’s not the least unattractive and with a little bit of work, she could become a total social butterfly. He gives a reluctant grunt in acknowledgement and now feels too annoyed to stay with her. Yesterday’s mystery had disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He was sure she liked him and nothing was interesting when a girl had fallen for him.

“Do you like me?” he questioned coolly, staring her straight in the eyes. Hyemi doesn’t skip a beat as she makes a witty come-back.

“Of course I do,” she replied with an air of triumph. “You’re attractive, tall and rich, what’s not to like?”

It takes a few seconds for her words to penetrate his thick skull and he realises she’s taunting him. His face turns a violent shade of red as he splutters his words. “Yah! Can’t you speak seriously to me for even one second?”

“Okay,” she replies easily. “Sir Kris, oh almighty King, I, loyal subject am indebted to this great hero.”

Kris has never felt so wronged. His position at school and status in society has super-inflated his ego.  His temper overtakes all his intentions of finding out more about this enigmatic girl and he snaps irritably. “Watch out you little freak, you don’t mess with me.”

And for the first time, he sees a flicker of fear in her soft, unblinking eyes. His pride swells with his sadistic thirst for dominance. Kris has never, ever lost in his life so why should he now? Especially to a meek girl. Hyemi swallows loudly and turns her face away as he smirks.

“The view isn’t all that fancy,” she says quietly.

And even Kris, who was addicted to winning couldn’t feel like a victor at all. He watches her leave in a stupor, not even able to utter a word to hold her back. And so she doesn’t come back.

He notices some-one is leaving him a water-bottle every day after sport in his locker. At first he dismisses it as another fan-girl’s ploy to get his attention but it turns up every single day, without fail. It’s always the same brand, the same temperature, the same tangy orange flavour. He knows it’s cheap but it’s irrevocably good. His friends mock his cheap taste as he takes it into the field, their hands occupied with expensive mineral water. But for once, even the arrogant King doesn’t mind.

He also notices that his grades are improving due to a set of mysterious notes appearing on his desk every afternoon. For once, the world seems to be smiling down on him, his parents aren’t so tyrannical and they seem… well nice. But that’s probably because he now is finally starting to look like a suitable heir to their company.  His friends adore him and his fan-base is growing with every smile he gives. It’s obvious that he’s smiling a lot more now and he’s a lot more approachable.

“Your smiles are different,” Chanyeol notes cheerily one day as they’re making their way to advanced maths. Kris looks over at his friend shocked.

“My smile…?” he questions with wide eyes.

“Yeah!” Chanyeol chirps. “It’s brighter, much more real. No wonder you have even MORE girls throwing themselves at your feet!”

Kris’s fingers inch their way to his lips and he touches them self-consciously. “Uh… thanks Chanyeol.”

“It’s nothing to thank me for,” Chanyeol says shrugging his shoulders apathetically. They continue in a comfortable silence for a bit before Chanyeol claps his hands in horror over his mouth. “We’re late!”

Kris winces at the shrieking but chuckles at his friend’s antics. They’re five minutes late for class but Kris makes up for it by charming the substitute teacher with his smooth words and good home-work mark. Chanyeol is grateful and clomps his arms over Kris’s waist as soon as they’re dismissed (making girls’ minds go crazy with erted thoughts) and beams up at him.

“You’ve changed,” he says simply, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “I like you a lot more now.”

Kris is dumbfounded.

He decides to revisit that roof again and is so surprised to see her there he gives a cry of shock and accidentally knocks his head against a pole. He thinks he’s made an absolute fool out of himself until her twinkling laughter chimes through the air as she gasps for breath, lost in her own laughter. Sheepishly, he scratches his head and grins a soft grin. She offers her hand and he takes it, hauling himself up the ground with her help. He realises she’s much stronger than he expected, her grip is strong and firm.

“What brings you here, my lord?” she teases playfully. He chuckles good-naturedly and replies with a light tone.

“Wanted to see milady.” Kris bows deeply, his sandy-blonde locks gleaming in the sun. He straightens up as she laughs in reply until a comfortable silence settles over the two students. It’s winter now and an icy chill has settled over the school and the buildings are coated in a fine layer of ice, the football field now a pure, sparkling white. The wind isn’t so nice though; it whips at their legs mercilessly, lashing with a thousand tiny, icy whips.

“Grades have been improving huh?” Hyemi probes, staring out at the view like she always does. Kris nods and grins.

“Some-one’s been leaving really neat notes for me,” he replied, oblivious to her chagrin. “I bet it’s that new substitute teacher. She absolutely adores me.”

“That’s nice.” Her tone is flat and dead and immediately, the atmosphere deflates like a balloon and Kris feels a rat gnawing at the insides of his stomach.

“W-what’s wrong?” he stutters, convincing himself it’s due to the cold.

She ignores his question and tucks a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. “Is basketball getting better?”

Kris is shocked she’s so observant. He knows she doesn’t exactly hold an affinity for him but he never thought she’d even care. “Um it’s… good.”

“The simplest things can make the biggest difference, can’t they?” she muses, refusing to meet his gaze. Kris notices the soft, brown highlights in her hair and milky, white skin and he finds himself again lost in her mystic beauty.

“Um… sure they do,” he returns, although he doesn’t really comprehend her words. He takes a place beside her, elbows rested against the rusty banister just as she’s doing. He realises she’s much shorter than he is and after a few moments he realises he’s smiling down at her head with glowing affection. Kris feels a certain warmth he hasn’t felt in a long time and suddenly he’s hypersensitive, the furious beating of his heart is almost painful and the world is painted in vivid colours despite the drab season.

“I-I have to go,” he stutters, frightened by the hurricane of sensations. Hyemi watches his disappearing figure and shrugs in a resigned manner.

“That guy is just so dense.”

And Kris’s palms grow even sweatier as he staggers down the stairs.

He avoids her at all costs. He doesn’t visit the roof anymore and he doesn’t have a need to. The thought of death doesn’t thrill him but instead sickens him. But whenever the sea of students part to let him and his entourage through, he can feel her eyes boring into his back and he feels the same initial rush of affection and butterflies. The water-bottle keeps showing up and so do the notes and he’s immensely grateful to whoever’s responsible. Who knew such small gestures could be so meaningful?

But he feels empty.

And he’s so frustrated that even when his parents ask him to do unnecessary paper-work, ask him to study, ask him to clean his room he no longer pouts and refuses, instead he finds himself mindlessly doing all these tedious chores. There’s no better word to describe his mood other than pure and utter lethargy. Everything is so goddamn boring and Kris finds more time for his home-work, more time for his little sister he didn’t crap about until now.

He finds these new emotions much more enjoyable than the pulsing of lights in a night-club or the feeling of a girl’s heated kisses on his skin. He feels warm, nice, cosy like a baby wrapped in a mother’s blanket. But he can’t help but acknowledge the gnawing pain in his heart like there’s a hole that’s been dug and then patched up and then dug up again. It stops his sleep at night and he’s constantly tossing and turning to the point where his sister came up with a nick-name- fish. It was a convulsing/ dying fish but Kris had threatened to eat all her cookies and they had come to the nicer compromise of “fish”.

So he meets a girl.

Her name is Im Yoona and she’s an innocent beauty with doe-eyes, smooth skin, a high-nose-bridge, excellent bone structure and the prettiest, softest lips any girl could ask for. She is soft-spoken, popular, rich, playful and good-natured and Kris is convinced he’s patched up the hole in his heart. She looks good with him, the dark-eyed, lithe honour student and the tall, broad-shouldered, handsome heir. His parents approve and they beam in joy whenever she comes round, stuffing her with Chinese delicacies. Kris still finds himself tossing in bed although much less than before but even when he’s sitting playing foot games under the dinner table with his “angel” he incessantly finds that his smile slips off his face.

“I’m just new to this,” he chants to himself. “First time I’m being committed so I’m just worried, nervous.”

It comes to a point where he gets so frustrated he storms out the house impulsively and finds himself once again, climbing those stairs to the roof-top. He doesn’t expect anyone to be there because it’s a hot, summer night and the warm wind washes over his legs as he makes his way shakily across the grey cement. He feels the familiar, rusty banister under his fingers and stares out at the view. A few of the school’s lights are still blinking softly and he feels slightly sorry for the scattering of flowers that are beginning to wilt in the humid heat. It takes a while for him to register that there’s a small, black lump in the corner.

So he reaches out a slender finger and prods it. The figure stirs slightly before falling on its back, eyelashes fluttering gently against closed lids as a series of pained groans escaped from a dainty mouth.

It’s Song Hyemi

He leans down and presses his lips against hers, warm and soft. The small flame that had been burning all the time in his hurt bursts into a raging fire and he finds himself ravishing her lips, drinking in her sweet scent as if these are his last seconds.

But they are her last seconds.

It’s too late when Kris realises the foul-smelling, red liquid spilling from her wrists as she wrestles her eyelids open. He grabs her wrists desperately, trying to stop the flow but her face is already pale, her breathing shallow.

“Why?” he chokes out, shuddering as he trembling reaches to his cheek. It takes a while for him to realise there are tears running in little rivulets down his flushed cheeks. Hyemi smiles whimsically and hair so gently; it feels like warm, summer wind.

And her hand falls away limply, that trademark soft smile still etched onto her face. Forever.

Dear Kris,

We were in love.

You were in denial.

I was dying from terminal cancer.

I hoped you wouldn’t find me but if you’re reading this letter, you obviously have.

Nothing would’ve stopped fate.

The only thing I could do was save you from knowledge.

Ignorance is bliss.

Love, Hyemi.