xxxiii. Wanting, Ignoring, Forgetting, & Wanting Again

“Are you regretting it?”

Sunggyu looked up from his clenched hands, raising an eyebrow at the odd conclusion the sensible twin in front of him had come to, “Of course not.”

The look he got back from Soryong was one of disbelief. Which made sense, considering the very gravity of what he had gotten involved with. Of what he got everyone involved with, whether they wanted it or not. Whether they knew it or not.

“I just,” Sunggyu leaned back, closing his eyes, wondering if he should simply give into all the restless nights that plagued him for the past week now right then and there, “I just don’t know where to start.”

“London works.” Soryong proposed with a shrug of his shoulders, as though the idea wasn’t one he was already backing up one hundred percent.

“To Jiyeon’s pack?” He questioned himself, tilting his head against the soft velvet he sat upon, the lounge chair of the hotel he was currently staying in much too comfortable for him to focus completely, “I suppose that is, technically, a start.”

“Why are you hesitating?” Soryong suddenly asked, his intuitive mind and clever wits unable to come up with an answer no matter how hard he thought about it. He simply had no clue as to why Sunggyu was teetering at the edge of the massive giant he had conquered, unsure of whether to move onto the next colossus or go plummeting downwards to his end.

Sunggyu opened his eyes, their previous languidness now a fiery temerity, “I’m not scared of what’s going to happen. My “blind trust,” as those Elitists put it, for humans makes me neither weak nor unwilling to do what I have to. I just want to make sure I know where everyone stands. I want to make sure I’m not unnecessarily dragging other people down with me should I fall at the end of all of this.” And like a wavering flame whose movements were unpredictable, a summer breeze blew through, his confidence wavered, and his eyes shook in their sockets as he came to his own unwanted conclusion, “Because this could be the end of us. Of all of us.”

“Pretending not to know isn’t helping you. You know that, don’t you?” Soryong breathed out, eyelashes fluttering slowly over his brown eyes, his mind just as tired as Sunggyu’s. His mind too tired to feel like conveying that which he knew Sunggyu knew. That which was obvious, no matter who looked at it. No matter what angle they decided to take. No matter when or where. “Do I really have to say it for you to finally admit it to yourself?”

Sunggyu remained still in his seat, his eyes wide open, no matter how much he wanted to close them. His ears straining to catch onto Soryong’s every utterance, no matter how much he wanted to pretend he couldn’t hear it.

“Everyone is where they should be. But, you know that. You know—”

Soryong’s following garbled words fell on deaf ears, a consistent pound drumming against Sunggyu’s head as soon as that next syllable left his lips. Knocking so hard that it threatened to break the door he had closed, that he had thrown away the key to, not wanting to know what lay behind it. Not wanting another piece of evidence which would prove his own, long since deducted, hypothesis correct.

But, now that it was there, out in the open, now that it was said, for his entire universe to hear, he couldn’t dismiss it any longer.

He had to face it.

The current question was: what would he do now?

London was, technically, a start.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Standard procedure when it came to jogging. A t-shirt coupled with matching dark gray sweats. Standard articles of clothing when it came to any kind of exercise. And yet, today was anything but usual. Today, you were racing down the street against a werewolf. Which, to be quite honest, wasn’t fair in the least.

The standard procedure was thrown out the window as you huffed and puffed, attempting to catch him where he jogged just a few meters in front of you. Not much of a race at this point, considering how the two of you started it. Or, more accurately, how he started it. He challenged you first, prompting the two of you to sprint down the street from your house early this Saturday morning.

Finals were over starting this past Friday. The last day of school was this upcoming Tuesday and Graduation was just around the bend after that.

This was the reason you were so pumped up when you woke up this morning. The hard part was over. You had finished your second to last year of highschool. If that wasn’t a cause for celebration, what was? Of course, a morning jog wasn’t what you had in mind either but, you were used to it now. For the past month, it was all you had been doing every morning, rain or shine. Because by doing this, you were engaging in your own kind of training for the fight ahead.

You had your own role to play in it all.

A role given to you before Sunggyu left by Sunggyu and Zico themselves.

A role that had you pushing onwards, no matter how tired you felt. Even though you felt as though you had depleted your stamina somewhere around mile nine in this loop around town you were doing with him.

With Hoya.

“Hoya!” You called out to him for the fourth time.

With his headphones tucked into his ears, he jogged on, not looking back even when you announced to him that you wanted to rest. Or, maybe he was pretending he didn’t hear you. Maybe he wanted to force you to catch up to him in order to get him to stop. And, if that’s what he wanted, he got it.

With one last spurt of energy, you propelled your legs forward, sprinting through sheer power of will. With clenched teeth, with an outstretched hand, and with a heart that threatened to break free of the confines of your chest, you grabbed onto the hood of his sweatshirt, forcibly pulling him backwards. Your momentum plus his surprise caused him to backtrack, almost tripping and falling onto you if you hadn’t stopped him from doing so, holding either side of his waist to keep him standing – not wanting to get squished like a bug by his top heavy body.

When he turned to look over his shoulder, one of his headphones slipped from his ears, allowing him to finally hear you say, “I’m going to take a break whether you like it or not. So, are you going to join me, or not?”

He scoffed, pivoting on his heel so that he faced you completely, “Not.”

You jeered right back, eyeing the expanse of street that stretched out in front of the two of you, the town’s buildings having ended a good mile back, the outskirts of Springfield composed of an endless green tree line, “Then go.”

And you sat right down at the side of the road, running a hand through your hair, effectively disheveling the ponytail you had worked so hard to put up this morning – something you were sure if Woohyun was there to witness, you’d never hear the end of it. With a twist of your fingers, you decided to hell with it. You wrung your hair from the confines of that knot creating elastic band that had the tendency to disappear if you weren’t watching it properly, slipping it onto your wrist instead.

You breathed in, and out, with closed eyes. At last, you were breathing correctly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The smell of sweat invaded your nostrils, and a laugh escaped your mouth. Because you heard the sound of grass giving way by your side. Because Hoya had decided that “Not” wasn’t what he wanted to do after all. 

You smiled to yourself, tapping at your knees as you feigned obliviousness, singing along to your own melody, waiting for that next statement of his that said, “Admittedly, I’m a bit tired too.”

A hum was your response, a nudge of your shoulder against his an unsaid word of thanks.

While you continued to stare off into the green, Hoya studied you, his eyes tracing down from your face to your shoulders to your hands to your knees, all the way down to the tips of your tennis shoes. And he asked himself how you managed it. How did you manage to do so many things despite the frailty of your body? Despite the limits humans found themselves bound to as if by fate? How did you manage it? How could you manage it?

He was doubtful of the answer to that question.

He didn’t want to answer it himself.

So, he asked you instead.

In a different form, because he wasn’t sure how else to say it so concisely.

“Are you ready for Graduation?”

“No.” You answered immediately, “I don’t think I could ever be ready. But, I’m not the procrastinating type. Putting it off won’t make me stronger. Pretending I’m ready won’t make me faster. And it certainly won’t improve my awful stamina.” You managed a laugh at your own expense, “Though, I do wish we could put it off forever. That we could just, you know?”

You turned to him, eyebrows furrowed downwards, hoping he understood what you were trying to say. Wishing he felt the same. Wondering how he felt at all, hypotheses and guesses all you had when it came to what he may or may have not been thinking as he stared on at you.

Luckily for you, he agreed.

“Yeah,” he looked forward, casting his eyes over the lush green landscape, “Yeah, I know.”

Because wouldn’t it be great if everyone could simply stay like this forever? Even if it was unrealistic, and both you and he knew that, wouldn’t it have been great? Wouldn’t it?

If he could just keep sitting next to you like this, wouldn’t it?

If his position at your side didn’t have to be jeopardized, wouldn’t it?

If his very existence didn’t have to be threatened the way it was, wouldn’t it?

He was having fatalistic thoughts. Thoughts of tragic deaths and dying heroes. Of final moments and last goodbyes. Of things left unsaid and even more things never said. 

And he couldn’t hold back anymore.

As the two of you stood up, ending your short break, it came tumbling off his lips. It went rushing through him, saying it out loud proving to be so much more overwhelming than merely thinking it.

“Hyunjoo, I think I might be in love with you.”

Uncertainty. Doubt. Fear. Love?

All these feelings and more rushed to the surface as he saw himself reflected in your wide eyes. And, he hadn’t known it until he saw himself there but, he was smiling. He was smiling as though the world’s weight was lifted off of his shoulders. He was smiling as though he couldn’t have been happier.

And he wondered why he hadn’t said this sooner, your reaction just as worthy, if not more so, in being seen as his words were to be said.

Your knees gave out, your body popping a squat right back there on the blanket of grass beside the road. You looked up at him, determined eyes staring straight, shoulders squared, hands in his pockets.

He wasn’t joking.

Not by a longshot.

And, if he wasn’t joking, then that meant he was telling the truth.

Hoya, Lee Howon, just confessed to you.

You needed a moment to gather yourself, your fingers shaking as your grasped onto your shins, massaging your pant-covered legs. There were Goosebumps traveling up and down your spine, infecting each patch of your skin like a virus.

And for some reason, almost instantly, he looked so much more charming today. His brown hair was styled back. His hoodie and sweats made him look like a prince who just jumped right out of the pages of a fairytale. With smiling almond eyes, he watched you in silence. His patience was a godsend. His smile, the one he threw you then, the one you had never seen as so gentle, so adoring, and so loving before, was as fluffy and as welcoming as a bed of feathers. Making you feel weightless, as though you yourself could sprout wings and fly with the aid of it and it alone. Making you feel like you could conquer anything and everything as long as those lips were curving upwards.

He shone bright pink in your eyes, your own cheeks dying blushing red. Rose-colored glasses are what you saw him through now.

And he was stunning.

The Hoya whose gestures you hadn’t seen, whose miniscule smiles that held within them bountiful emotions, whose presence left you breathless, materialized all at once. He was there all at once, all of a sudden, surprising you.

Stunning you.

“Give me a second.” You told him, holding up your hand, denying him the chance to say anything else. Making him wait even longer than he must have already. Because just because you hadn’t acknowledged it before doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. Just because you chose to ignore it before doesn’t mean you never expected this. The only question before was when? When would he say that which that look in his eyes always conveyed? When would he be able to act on what he shouted with every, single move he made every, single time you were with him? How much longer would he have to wait?

His patience was a godsend.

But, keeping him waiting wasn’t something you wanted to do.

And, when you realized this, when you dawned upon this fact as soon as your words left your lips, with a twist of your wrist, you held your hand out to him instead. “No, sit next to me.” You gave him a coy smile, “I don’t think I can stand up again right now.”

He did as you asked, slipping his hand into yours, sitting down by your side. And the two of you must have looked positively crazy to be kicking back by the side of the road like this. He must have been positively crazy to confess so bravely, the smile he gave you as he turned his head to look at you so wide you couldn’t help but smile back. You must have been positively crazy to say what you did then.

Because Hoya was stunning.

And he could have been stunningly yours.

He could have been.

You dug your sneakers into Nature’s cushion, feeling his hand still in yours, holding tightly, thumbs pressed together, the heat of summer, the laughter and the smiles of a well deserved vacation, of he who was as unrelenting as a hot summer day, yet as patient as those white clouds that would fly by slowly, providing shade from his own heat should those he watched over require it, all right there.

All in the palm of your hand, ripe for the taking. All right there. All so close.

If only you said yes.

If only.

“I don’t think there’s anyone I’d rather meet at dawn wearing my father’s clothes while drinking a cup of coffee.” You held tight to him, as tight as you could, relishing in what could be, getting that sweet taste at the tip of your tongue at the sample of what every morning could have been like, “When I’m with you, everything I do or say or feel is so sincere and heartfelt that it feels good. It feels like I can do no wrong, no matter how imperfect I am. I’m the almighty Jeanne D’arc, the virtuous Mother Theresa, the righteous King Sejong, but then, at the end of the day, I’m Song Hyunjoo. And, for some reason, being me with you makes me want to be no one else.”

And, you knew he knew. As you loosened your grip on his hand, as you smiled at him the way you did and he smiled back, you knew he knew. “I don’t think there’s anyone I’d rather greet the early morning with. I really don’t. Having you by my side like this is, in itself, amazing to me. And that’s the extent of my love for you. That’s the highest capacity I have to give, even if I want to give so much more.”

You were rejecting him. It was roundabout but for some reason, it seemed right this way. Because you had considered it. Because there was nothing black and white about it. Because you had entertained the idea of being with him, you couldn’t put it into words so easily. You couldn’t cut the tie so heartlessly.

“You’re important to me, you know? Boyfriend or not. Whether you like me or not. Even if you hate me in the end. No matter what happens, I’m grateful you’re here.” You lifted his hand in front of you, gazing on at how his fingers wrapped around your own, and you sighed inwardly, letting go of them slowly, reluctantly. And as his hand drifted to his lap, as your own tucked themselves in front of your chest, you looked to him, and you could see your image reflected in his eyes, and you never thought you appeared more beautiful than you did in those pools of black, “Thank you for your feelings, Howon.”

That was that.

That was the end of his long journey to find someway past that line into the realm of a romantic interest. Some way out of the zone labeled “Friend.” Yet, he didn’t regret his previous attempts to make it out. He didn’t think his confession was all for naught. Because, he had found a place just for him. A place outside of the usual boy-girl relationships. A place that didn’t have a label. A place that didn’t need one. A place where you could be yourself. Where you felt like the best version of yourself.

The same place where the best version of himself, Lee Howon, existed.

You couldn’t give him anything more.

He didn’t see a need for anything more.

And his next words came out easily, his eyes locked with yours, your shoulder on his, so close he couldn’t help but do it. He couldn’t help but lean forward, your features blurring, your wide eyes he got to see for the second time today causing him to smile as he placed a kiss right below the corner of your eye. A fleeting gesture that he would allow himself to give you, along with the words he said then as he pulled back, watching your expression, “You’re amazing.”

You gulped down, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you shook your head furiously, flattered and frazzled, “No. You are.” You asserted, in a deep breath as you closed in on him, giving him what he had just given you.

Placing it right there, on his cheek bone that had risen upwards, his grin as obvious as the sun that rose from the east, drowning the two of you in reds, oranges, and yellows. When you pulled away, lips tingling from the contact, you watched him. And he watched you in turn. And you don’t know how long the moment lasted. You don’t know when you said what you did next.

You just knew there was no on else you’d rather greet this morning sun with.

“Mr. Amazing.” You mused as you laid your head in the crook of his neck, the smell of shampoo, sweat, and grass creating a mixture that left you stunned. That left you feeling amazing. “We smell awful.”

You mumbled beneath your breath, laughing.

And he laughed along with you.

And being Song Hyunjoo never felt so good.

He cleared his throat, swinging his legs back and forth. Despite his precarious position, his body swaying this way and that to keep him balanced on the metal railing he sat on, he couldn’t help himself. He had to do something when they were alone together like this. If he didn’t, he’d start talking. And if he started talking, he’d say something stupid. And if he said something stupid, she wouldn’t allow him the chance to be alone with her like this for another long stretch of time.

He told himself to keep his mouth shut, reciting Niel’s commonly used words of, “Just shut the hell up, Ricky,” over and over in his head like a mantra, admonishing himself before he even said a single word. Hoping and hoping that would persuade him to stay quiet. Hoping the disappointment he felt for himself would be enough to keep the zipper that currently had his words stuck, stuffed down his throat, firmly sealed shut.

When was the last time they talked alone anyway?

Middle school?

That’s when she met her charming dreamboat and changed into someone he didn’t know. Someone he didn’t want to know. So, middle school sounds about right.

Or, maybe it’s his fault she changed.

Considering what he did not even days before she fell head over heels in love with the expressionless bastard that shalt not be named, it was all his fault, wasn’t it?

Their relationship was a weird one.

The relationship between Bang Minah and himself, Yoo Changhyun – better known as Ricky to anyone who knew him well enough.

And he’d like to think she used to know him well enough. More than well enough, in fact. If he remembered correctly, he proposed to her in the third grade and she accepted. He still doesn’t remember why he did it. He still doesn’t remember why she said yes. Did he like her? Did she like him back? All he can remember is the smile she gave him as she screamed, so that the whole world could hear her, “Yes!”

So then, wasn’t it unfair of his bride-to-be to ignore him like this?

Niel had long since become number one in his mind – all by his mother’s design – but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends, right? Now that she had changed back, back to who she used to be, the girl who could catch a cockroach with her bare hands after it wandered into the classroom on a rainy autumn morning, the girl who wore pink because she liked it, not because she had an unhealthy obsession with it, the girl who laughed at dog poop jokes – though, maybe they were both too old for that – so openly and loudly he’d laugh too even if it wasn’t funny, it could be different, couldn’t it? They could be friends again, couldn’t they?

Like they used to be, before he screwed up.

Like they used to be, before she changed.

Like they used to be, the loathing he felt for her after the fact gone as though it never existed in the first place.

He was getting a bit too hopeful as he turned to her, her cute charms not changing a bit since elementary, those lips of hers still pouting in their usual expression even when she wasn’t thinking about anything at all. And he spoke up, ping his lips, disobeying the Niel inside of his head that told him not to screw up again, “Well, this is awkward.”

He cringed, mentally beating Niel up for not giving him better words to say.

She hummed to herself, her eyes staring downwards, as though she refused to look at him, “It wasn’t until you said that.”

He couldn’t stop now, however. It couldn’t get anymore awkward than this, he hoped. There’s no way it could, he was certain.

“Can we mend,” he paused, thinking of a way to explain himself, coming up with nothing but the obvious, “us?”

She looked over her right shoulder at the lights that buzzed from the building behind them, searching for an escape to this conversation. She found none, causing her to have to continue to dodge him as best she could. Because, for some reason, when Niel wasn’t around, he went from lively and spontaneous to serious and melancholy. And she didn’t want to dwell in the past. With her eyes set forward once more, she was determined to look to the future instead.

“There’s nothing to mend. This is us.”

She was being harsh, she knew that.

But, she didn’t want to talk about it.

And, she knew he would. She knew he would eventually. Unfortunately, that eventuality occurred right then and there, the feeling his words gave her akin to that itch at the top of a person’s mouth that they just can’t scratch, no matter how hard they try.

“Really? We’re just two people who don’t talk to each other when we’re not with our friends now?”

You’re the one who changes when no one else is around, she wanted to correct him.

“It’s just weird, don’t you think?”

You’re right, she wanted to vehemently agree with him.

“You can’t pretend, even after all this time, that this is all we are. That this, this uncomfortable distance and fake, friendly conversation, is us.” He was frustrated, at himself more than anyone, as he said to her everything he was dissatisfied with. As though she could solve it all. As though by saying all of this, they could solve it together.

But, all she wanted to do was yell at him.

Shut up, she wanted to scream until her voice went hoarse. Until she couldn’t hear him anymore. Until she couldn’t see him anymore, even if she had to cry out in order to make it so. Still, he continued, undeterred by her lack of response. Rather, even more persistent because of it.

As he always was and always will be.

“Especially not after what we did—”

“Stop it.”

Minah looked at him, finally looked at him, for the first time in a long time. And he couldn’t help but smile, despite how furious she was with him. Despite how annoyed she was with him. Despite how much she wanted to break down and cry right then and there. And all she could remember was the street lamps blaring down on them, his white breath hitting her face, the warmth of his jacket that engulfed her small frame, pure, palpable happiness at the peak of their thirteenth year.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She finished, resigning to the memory that flew to the forefront of her mind, no matter how much she had tried to convince herself she had forgotten it.

“Then, we can talk about it later?” He looked at her with ever hopeful eyes, large and dog like, the kind that used to be able to make her say yes to anything. To anything and everything.

Technically, “later” was a term used for an event set to occur in the future, wasn’t it? Technically, he had jumped into her range of sight with just that one word, hadn’t he? Technically, she couldn’t refuse him at this point, could she?

And she wasn’t going to, if only she had been able to get the words out.

If only they weren’t interrupted by the sudden intrusion of someone neither of them had ever seen before. With a head of hot pink hair that rivaled the pink princess’s phone case and a grin as vast as the seven seas, a boy called out to them from a few meters away with a, “Hey, excuse me,” meandering over towards the two right after.

They waited in silence, Ricky throwing an unsettled glance Minah’s way, not liking the sudden appearance of the stranger. Not liking even more that as he got closer, it was obvious whose attention he sought out when he first called. Coming to a stop right in front of Minah, the male looked her up and down, as if quizzically, as if there was something off about her, before asking a seemingly harmless question.

“Where can I find the nearest Motel?”

Ricky watched as Minah visibly relaxed, releasing a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. He scooted closer to her, as inconspicuously as he could manage, the feeling he was getting from the thin-framed male anything but positive. And he did anything but allow Ricky’s nerves to calm down, his hand tingling where it rested on the metal bar that supported him, at the ready, should the mysterious male get any closer.

“There’s no motel in Springfield.” She answered calmly, lifting her hand to point down the street, past the library, “But, there’s a Bed and Breakfast past the library if you turn right and head down a little ways. They’re used to handling those passing through for the night, so you shouldn’t have trouble finding a room.”

A normal person would have looked in the direction she was pointing. A normal person would have said, “Thank you,” and ended the exchange just like that. But, this male was anything but normal. Even as she pointed, he kept his eyes on her, smile growing with each syllable that passed her lips. It unnerved Ricky, who was able to act just then.

Who was able to step in, pushing the man’s hand that attempted to grab onto her own away, moving in front of her in the process. And his first thought was, “How cool am I?” Ricky had just done what he had seen in the movies, on the television, in anything but real life, so well. And while he wanted to turn on his heel and ask Minah how cool he was right then and there, the bubblegum pop haired male in front of him needed to be dealt with first.

He could ask her how cool he was later.

“It’s in that direction, to the right. Just like she said. You can’t miss it.” He pointed himself with his right hand, his left at his side, acting as a shield that, in essence, was only as strong as it looked. Was only as strong as his words. A bluff seen through as though it were a mere veil covering that which was wanted by the unknown male.

He ignored Ricky, looking to Minah who looked as right as rain behind him, not offended or put off in the least at what Ricky had done, “If you would excuse me for being rude Miss, I just wanted to tell you how beautiful your hands are.” A knowing smile graced his features, “They look so frail and delicate. Just like a Princess’s.”

Ricky opened his mouth to say something utterly idiotic, something that wouldn’t have helped the situation in the least, something that wasn’t tactful in the least, his mindset always different when it came to her, when Minah stopped him, speaking first, “Thank you.”

He seemed shocked by her straightforward answer, and, as a result, ever the more interested in her. He leaned forward, peering past Ricky to get a good look at her, “Miss, if you don’t mind me asking—”

“She minds,” Ricky interrupted, only to be ignored.

“What’s your name?” The male finished, eyes that looked at her from their deep depressions dark, hidden beneath half-lidded eyelids. She didn’t know what to make of him. She honestly didn’t want to have to.

Thankfully, another knight in shining armor came to her rescue – thankfully, more effective than the baby-faced Ricky. Two, in fact.

“What’s going on?”

Niel sauntered out of the convenience store’s sliding door, spotting the situation almost immediately. Yura was close behind him, a fierce look in her eyes as she caught sight of the way the unnamed male was looking at Minah.

Yura held out her hand as they approached, gesturing for Minah to get closer to her. Minah listened without a single complaint, rounding the metal railings that were set up in front of the convenience store to join her. She was merely thankful that Niel was here to back up Ricky when it came to the male whose confidence, along with his arrogance and persistence, seemed insurmountable.

“Was there something you needed?” Yura hooked her arm through Minah’s, locking her by her side, acting as the moat to the Princess’s castle, the fiery dragon to her tower, the last line of defense should the mysterious stranger from a faraway land attempt to overstep his boundaries.

The trespasser looked between Niel’s overbearing, hardened expression to Ricky’s fuming one, then towards the two girls who looked as though the only thing they wanted to do now was be rid of him. And, with a sigh, he shook his head, “I’m disappointed you see the need to be so hostile. And here I thought Springfield would be a lovely town that would welcome a weary traveler should he need assistance.”

“We told you want you wanted to know.” Ricky asserted, impatiently pointing down the street once more, “So, you can get going now.”

“I’m sure they’ve shown you more than enough hospitality for one day.” Niel stepped closer to him, breaking his line of sight with Minah and Yura.

“I just wanted to know your name.” The male disregarded the two of them, his intentions made clear for the umpteenth time.

Minah stared back at him in silence, Yura and Ricky glancing at her nervously while Niel stood his ground, refusing to move a single inch from his spot. Whatever this guy wanted, it surely wasn’t just her name. And even if he’d find out sooner or later, her infamy undeniably, Niel would rather he found out at the latter.

Noticing the resentment he was garnering from them, as he’d have to be both blind and dense to not, the male gave a second sigh, feeling rather disrespected by the lot of them, “Is it a crime to ask a question?”

“Is it a crime to refuse to answer one?” You shot back at him, promptly entering stage right.

You had been paying at the cashier when you saw the escalation of events through the window lined wall of the entrance of the building, causing you to rush the poor woman who scanned the ice cream bars you had bought for yourself, Niel, Ricky, Minah, and Yura tonight. The five of you had gone to see a movie earlier this afternoon, Niel being the one who drove while Ricky sat shotgun – claiming his, what he called, “rightful place” at his fiancé’s side. You were honestly beginning to wonder how far his and Niel’s mother had told him to go with the joke, if the older woman was joking at all.

Either way, the duo plus Yura’s wit and Minah’s newfound sense of humor, though she hadn’t cussed the entire night yet, seemingly holding back for whatever reason, made for an interesting night at the screening of Aliens Vs. Androids IV. A movie which caused the ten-minute drive to the convenience store to be composed of Niel and Ricky arguing about the ending.

Because the Aliens should have won.

At some point, you had forgotten which side either of them argued for. At some point, you had a feeling they agreed with each other, though continued to bicker nevertheless. At some point, Yura and Minah were laughing beside you, thoroughly amused. At some point, you were smiling along with them.

And, just minutes before now, you all decided to get dessert to go; a cold, late-night snack on a hot summer night sounding like the best thing in the world to five teenagers.

And the five of you had now encountered him, the male you approached with wide steps. He looked about your age, donning a leather jacket with a gray hoodie, dark blue skinny jeans, and the logo t-shirt of a Rock band whose name you didn’t recognize. But, it wasn’t just his clothes that caused you to act the way you did: challenging him rather than calmly walking away from the situation with your friends in tow. It was his clothes plus the look in his lazy, bedroom eyes separated by a crooked nose which superseded a pair of curved lips that did it.

It was obvious within seconds of you laying eyes on him.

His need for entertainment, even if it left others squirming in his wake, was insatiable.

He liked to control the flow of the conversation, answering what he liked and asking what he liked, when he liked.

He wasn’t a bad boy; he simply had a specific type of personality.

A type you were used to, thanks to past experience.

“It’s—”

And, the first way to handle such a person was to make sure he wasn’t the one instigating responses, but the one who was responding instead.

“It’s probably a crime somewhere, who knows? But, it’s certainly not one here.” You reached out, pushing him gently out of Niel’s personal space, putting some distance between the two in order to avoid fists that would surely go flying should the male say anything more regarding Minah or Yura; his intentions seeming to be what put Niel himself and Ricky on edge in the first place.

He gave you a queer look, his eyes leaving Minah, finding a new target to focus on. He looked momentarily to where your hand had just pushed against his chest in mild surprise, his lips pursing forward, his eyebrows rising into tufts of pink above smiling brown eyes, “I—”

You interrupted him for the second time then, determined, “You like ice cream, don’t you? I’m sure you do. Most everyone does. So, take this and get going.” You held out the bag of frozen treats you had just purchased with Yura and Niel, pushing towards it his hand which laid still at his side. That you wanted to keep still, even if it meant filling it with something you wanted, a fight the last thing you were looking for.

“Is this a bribe?” He questioned, and you didn’t grace him with an answer as he took the bag gratefully, peeking inside to inspect its contents as though the chances of you trying to doop him were high. He grinned like a child on his birthday when he saw that inside it lay exactly what you had promised. And he looked up, locking eyes with you again, not caring for who else might have been there. No longer caring for the girl who, when asked her name, ended up subjecting him to undesired and – in his eyes – undeserved verbal abuse. “You seem to know me so well, Miss—”

You hadn’t interrupted this time. No, this time, he stopped himself. He stopped and waited, that loop-sided grin still there on his face. He awaited your name like a dog waiting for its bone. Like a fan waiting for the next obsession-worthy object of attraction to reveal itself from behind the stage curtain.

Stuffing your hands into your jean pockets, you breathed out, mentally scolding yourself for not knowing this would happen, “If I give you my name, will you leave?”

He nodded, giving the first upfront answer he had this entire time, “I will.”

“Joey.” You recited, your mind blanking out before you could think of anything else. Quite regrettable really, considering the fact that the name was one you had forgotten about until now. Or, rather, one you didn’t want to remember at all.

He threw his head back, laughing as though enjoying his own inside joke, a joke you couldn’t understand even if you knew the contexts he was putting it into, before he casted you another searing glance, “Now, see, unless I’m missing something,” and his eyes drifted downwards, too much for your liking, lingering too long for your liking, before he finally met your eyes again, “you’re lying to me.”

You shrugged noncommittally, “Take it or leave it. It’s your choice.”

“Then I’ll take it,” he paused, contemplating it one last time, the coincidence too funny for him not to crack a smile, chiseled cheekbones rising to the heavens, before continuing, before ending it just like that, before leaving with one last uttering of your nickname that mimicked one he knew well, “Joey.”

As expected, as soon as he was out of sight, the game of twenty questions began.

“Joey?” Niel was the first, asking the obvious.

“It’s what my—” You cleared your throat, quickly changing the words that were about to leave your lips, the ability to take them back, to hold onto them a bit longer for safekeeping, impossible if you hadn’t thought on your feet right then and there, “It’s just a nickname I used to have before I moved to Springfield.”

“Thank you.” Minah spoke up, looking from a still seething Yura, to a relaxed Niel, to an ever hopeful Ricky, and then, with her eyes coming to rest on yours, she emphasized her words for a second time, “Really, thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I used to deal with those types of guys all the time.” You absentmindedly commented, realizing too late that that remark would cause this game of twenty questions to take a bad turn. You followed it up quickly, not missing a beat, in order to change the subject, “Well, since I just gave away our late night snack, let’s go to my house instead. Sound good?”

“Yeah.” Niel agreed before Ricky could say more, the zipper that held back his words having recently broken, not wanting to press the subject further. He pulled his mom’s car keys from his pocket – she had let him borrow it today – and led the way towards the parking lot. On his shoulder, he felt someone’s hand give him a comforting squeeze.

Turning back, he saw Yura there, thanking him wordlessly as her hand slipped from him, its brief warmth something he got a second dose of in the form of her smile.

Turning back, he caught the curious scene of Minah sticking as close to you as possible if it only meant not having to say a single word to Ricky about the entire situation until later.

And while turning back, he wondered briefly if Minah and Ricky remembered how many times they had promised to talk “later,” only to not say a single word to each other in the end. Only to make another unfulfilled promise some unspecified amount of time later.

Later.

Because now was too immediate.

Later.

Because it was easier dealing with it all that way. 

It wasn’t long after Niel, Ricky, Minah, and Yura left that you heard your mother’s footsteps creaking down the steps of the stairs. She had gone up earlier to rest a little while ago, leaving you all to yourselves in the living room. Ricky wanted to stay all night for an Aliens Vs. Androids movie marathon, still not quite over the ending of the most recent sequel, but you along with an exasperated Niel were able to convince him otherwise – Niel promised you’d all do it during summer vacation instead, from morning till dawn on a temperate Saturday.

“I would have been fine with them staying.” Were her first words as she entered the kitchen, spoken a bit louder than usual as the sound of running water and clashing plates filled the room.

You turned away from your task of washing dishes, sparing her a glance and a smile, before returning your focus to the remnants of ice cream and salty chips left on the surface of the white ceramic in your hands, “Niel had to drive Minah and Yura back home anyway.”

Besides, if you weren’t seeing things, it looked like Minah was worried about staying out too late. Her mother was most likely the cause of such feelings, but you didn’t want to bring it up. You figured she’d deal with it on her own, something she was getting more used to doing as the days went by. Something that made her stronger, even if she didn’t realize it herself.

There was silence as you rinsed off the last of the dishes, placing them in the drying rack beside the sink when all the suds were gone, washed down the drain. You reached forward, getting a few squirts of hand soap into your palm with the intent to wash your hands. You heard your mother shifting behind you, doing something. You were neither bothered by it nor curious as to what it was she was doing in particular. You simply let her do it, turning the water off and patting your hands dry with a disposable paper towel when you were done getting the feeling of dried on food off of your hands.

You were in your own little world as you turned around, the reason you went flinching backwards, bumping into the counter as soon as you did. A yelp of surprise left you as well, you right hand going up to clutch at your heart that threatened to stop right then and there.

“You scared me.” You breathed out, looking up to find your mother there, a mere foot away from you, in the same place she was when you turned around.

She was unfazed by the surprise you exhibited, her mind too focused on her next words to react the same way you had. Though, even if you mirrored her closely in appearance, she couldn’t deny that you were always a bit more jumpy than her. She wrote it off as a difference of experience, however.

Though, there was one kind of experience she preferred you never went through.

“I heard about the fight you had with a boy in front of the convenience store earlier.” She proclaimed, not asking if it were true. Rather, knowing it was based on who she heard it from, “Niel and Ricky were talking about it by themselves in the kitchen earlier.”

“It wasn’t a fight.” You waved your hand in the air, dismissing the idea, “I gave him some ice cream and he backed off.”

She rose an eyebrow, thin fingers wrapped tightly around the coffee mug in her hands, “Really?”

You managed a laugh, “Do I look like I could beat someone up if I tried?”

And she stared at you. She stared at you as though she were actually pondering the question. As though the obvious answer was anything but obvious.

“You scare me sometimes.” She repeated your words, rephrasing them to her liking, her steady gaze heavy and burdensome on your shoulders. It felt like the weight of the world and more, and you wanted more than anything to be rid of it. To shrug it off, not ready to accept whatever truth she wanted to convey to you.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to.

Not right then and there, anyway.

Because, it was at that precise moment that the home phone began to ring.

The likelihood that it was just another telemarketer, as next to no one else knew the house phone number, was high. In fact, there was no way it wasn’t some man or woman sitting behind a desk, ready to start a clock by their side which would determine their earnings for keeping you on the phone for thirty minutes or more.

Thirty minutes you were willing to give up as you excused yourself wordlessly with a nod, walking out of the kitchen and into the foyer where the phone continued to ring, vibrating against its wooden stand. You picked it up without hesitating, without even checking the number first, parting your lips to say the usual greetings.

Except, the person on the other side spoke first, “Hello?”

And you recognized his voice, no matter how long it had been since you had heard it.

It still had its usual deep, gruff, rasping tone, as though he were eternally down with a cold. It still had its own unusual intonation, his words seeming to slip and fall off the edge of his lower lip whenever he asked a question or was even the slightest bit unsure of what he was doing. It still remained the same, unchanging after all this time.

And you wanted to ask if you sounded the same too.

If, as you called out his title of endearment, you still sounded like the girl he left last summer, “Dad?”

He responded as affectionately as he always would, as you imagined he would, as though you had never come to Springfield, as though he had never left, as though he were right there by your side, with his deep, unchanging voice, “Hey, my little Joey.”

You raised your hand to your mouth, stopping yourself from gasping. Sullying your palm with unwept tears. Silently screaming into its expanse numerous unspoken words. Stuck in a state akin to a bottomless pit of shock that mixed with relief the farther down you fell. 

You were dreaming.

There was no other possible explanation for this.

After over a year, after over thirteen months and some odd days, he was suddenly back. Back in your life. Back in your reality. Back so suddenly and abruptly that you doubted it was even real at all.

But, it was.

It had to be, as you heard your mother call for you from the kitchen, breaking the illusion you wanted to keep dreaming. Proving to you that this was, indeed, reality.

“Hyunjoo?” She had noticed the hushed voice you were using, your words out of her range of hearing causing her to grow curious, “Hyunjoo, who is it?”

And before you could even ponder letting a lie slip from between your lips, he called on you adoringly, “It’s okay, Joey. You can tell her.”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. Your words, if you even attempted to speak, would have come out as garbled nonsense. You were like a babbling brook, the way your tears began to stream down your cheeks. Your lips followed suit, quivering so much you had to bit down onto your lower lip. You had to steady yourself so that you could do as he had told you to.

As your Dad had told you to do.

“It’s Dad.”

And thus began the long night filled with screams you didn’t understand. With yelling that echoed from one corner of the house to the next, scaring off any and all microscopic beings. Little, miniscule things that escaped as you, sitting on the edge of your bed, knees held tightly to your chest, tears staining your cheeks till they were raw and red, wished you could.

Because, your mother was angry.

And, the worst part was, you didn’t know why.

And, what was even worse was that not knowing had never made you so scared, so fearful, so anxious, so guilty, before.

Not ever.

Not even the following week, Graduation day upon all of you at long last.

A/N:

I actually have no flippin'  clue as to what to write here. Block B coming back has rendered me thoughtless and textless. This chapter was long again. Hoya's confession was here along with Hyunjoo's dad's first appearance! I feel like saying anything regarding either will spoil the moment. So, instead, let me declare to you my current want/desire. I want to eat a pepperoni pizza. But, I'm too lazy to get up and drive to get it. Even lazier for not wanting to figure out the number to call to make it come to me. Darn.

Feed me with your love. Please?

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