xliii. Her, Him, & Them III

She dreamt of him. Of walking and talking. Of laughing and smiling. She dreamt of him. Of Italy. Of buildings all colors of the rainbow and people to match. She dreamt of a future with him. 

Lee Sungyeol wasn’t the type to break the rules. Not because he wasn’t a rebel at heart, but because he didn’t want to betray the trust others had put in him. He understood the value of the relationships he held close at hand at any one point in time. He knew there was always the possibility they would leave him all at once, and lived knowing he had to put his own individual effort in to keep them. Because they say nothing lasts forever, because your situation can change at the drop of a hat, at the slightest of falls, he pursued his own “forever.” He worked for his own “forever.” As long as he could, as hard as he could, he threw himself completely into every situation. Into all the words that made it up and all the actions that went into it. He was all in, all the time. 

He was all into remaining hesitant one day, and all into acting on impulse the next. 

He was easier to break than others because of this. 

His “forever” was so much simpler to end.

“Where’d Sungyeol go?” Were her first words as she descended the old, creaking stairs. 

Giuseppe looked up from the newspaper he was reading, nodding to her in recognition of her question. He waved her over, waiting for her to enter the small living room before he slid a piece of paper on the table towards her. In read as follows: “Went out to buy breakfast. Scrambled, right? Yeol.” 

“Yeah. Scrambled,” she picked up the slip, smiling, because he knew even though she had never said it. Even though she had never stated that she liked scrambled eggs the most, that the texture of egg whites was too gooey and plastic tasting for her to enjoy, he knew. He knew so much about her, what she liked and didn’t, what she preferred and didn’t, what she was like and what she wasn’t. He knew her so well. 

“How much?” 

The words came from in front of her. Broken, spoken with a stutter. From the chapped lips of the older man named Giuseppe Moretti. The man who married his wife when they turned eighteen. Who lost his love to lung cancer. Whose love smoked as though she loved nothing more. Who asked her this same question at the age of fifty-three, over ten years ago. 

“How much he do,” his eyes grew dewy, his lungs constricting as though his wife were there, breathing hot, humid air into him, “for,” he choked on it, suffocating slowly, “love?” 

He cleared his throat, blinking back tears, straightening out the newspaper in his hands. She watched in silence, knowing what he meant without him clarifying it. Without him repeating himself. Without his next words of, “Your love?” And, “How much?”

How much did Sungyeol have to do for her to love him? In the same way he loved her. From the same vein of heartfelt affection. So that she knew what kind of eggs he liked the most as well — and that morning, she’d learn it was sunny side up. She couldn’t answer this question, however, without first answering the one she posed then.

“I’m not even sure I know what love is.”

Giuseppe nodded, understanding despite their language barrier. 

He knew her so well. 

Once an open book, forever a walking billboard.

She paced back and forth, her weight shifting from here to there. The floor squeaked underneath her, background noise to the ringing in her ears. She had decided she would call him back, international charges be high or not. After the rather disconcerting amount of text messages and voicemails he had left for her, she decided she would no longer ignore him as though he didn't exist. As though past promises she made and places she had been in before she arrived in Italy didn't matter. 

The whirlpool that was reality plus his last worrisome — on her part, not his — text message that read "I don't do desperate" had her ultimately, yet so achingly hesitantly, calling him back this peaceful Venetian morning. 

The lecture she got immediately after he picked up was long, thoroughly thought out, and positively prickling with anger. He wasn't going to forgive her easily, though she never expected him to. He seemed like the type to hold grudges despite that unnerving smile that was forever pasted to his face. She couldn't even imagine what kind of expression he had as his words came to a pointed conclusion in the form of a question. 

“I know.” She answered, feeling guilty. Only to not feel as such the very millisecond afterwards as he accused her like a lawyer well-versed in the ways to break another living, breathing human being. 

“Making me feel bad won’t fly me back to you.” She noted to him, though he didn't seem to be all too pleased with this new piece of information. He attacked her with words again, and everything he said was right — no matter how much she wished he was wrong.

“I’m sorry. I really am. I just—” She was cut off, another question buzzing in her ear.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, another revelation that pushed him past anger. Past simple grudge-holding. Because he didn't do desperate, he curtly informed her of what he'd do about the entire situation stalled between the two of them, and hung up the phone. 

She only managed to get out a call of “Hak—” before she was greeted by a loud beep, followed by a kind of noisy silence she wasn't sure how to handle. She wasn't sure how to handle any of this. 

This hospital smell, first of all, was starting to get to her. To remind her of someone who she hadn't visited in what felt like forever, and someone else who she wanted to give a hug in public, no matter how embarrassing it might have been. To stab at her heart as Sungyeol came bounding towards her, his smile so large it looked as though his cheeks would sprout wings and fly away. 

“They still have my file from when I was a patient here. They said the records will take a few hours to shift through though. Computers weren’t exactly used all too much ten years ago.” He was so caught up in his own world, in his own fantasy, that he only then realized the less-than-enthusiastic face she was making. He steadied his labored breathing that had occurred both as a result of him running towards her after he heard the news and his own excitement to what tonight would bring. Running his fingers down the length of her forearm, examining her features further, he asked, “You alright?”

“No,” she honestly replied, letting him tuck her away under his shoulder. It was an act of comfort she appreciated, and thus continued with, “but I’ll live.” She probably would anyway. “So you’ll know your family’s address by tomorrow?”

With his hand draped over her, shielding her like it had become a habit, he led them towards the hospital entrance, “By tonight. I gave them my email.”

“Which means—”

He interrupted her before he could finish, flashing her another one of those high-flying smiles, “Which means we have the entire morning and afternoon to tour the city. I don’t know if you knew, but there’s more to this place than just cat statues.”

“The boat ride was nice too,” she teased, basking in him.

His ears reddened at the tips. A hot pink feeling she couldn't handle swirled at the pit of her stomach. She ignored it, smiled in face of it, clenched her toes within the confines of her shoes and pushed on despite it. 

She awoke to find him up already. His voice was gibberish to her ears, his Italian flowing from his lips quickly. Excitedly. Happily, he paced on his own in the kitchen. Right behind the couch. Right where the two had fallen asleep together. His arms cradling her from behind, her hair itching his face multiple times the night before. Tickling at his lips in a way that made him smile and nuzzle his head closer to her own. 

Deeper and deeper until she fell asleep, and he was soon to follow. Watching a television show in a language she didn't understand, she still stayed up with him as long as she could. Until she was battling her body, her innate desire to rest her eyes, and, ultimately, lost. 

She sat up completely now, resting her arms and her chin on the back of the couch, watching him as he walked back and forth. Eyes blinking slowly. Mind falling out of it slowly. The time it took him to notice her stare even slower. Only when he had hung up the phone, a smile so large on his face that she couldn’t help but sleepily imitate, and turned towards the living room with a purpose did he notice her. And he only got happier. 

He had learned about his parents last night. Late last night. They recorded a change of address not long after his accident, informing the hospital that they’d no longer be requiring their services. They now lived in Sicily, Italy, south of Venice on a land mass at the tip of the country. Much further south. As though they were running from the danger that spread out from the north with the intent to go as far as they could until they were safe — and they were. He had a mother, a father, and a younger brother before his unlucky fall. Now, he wasn’t sure who he had. 

Now, he only wanted to find out. 

That’s what he said he would call a few agencies about this morning. He was scheduling plane tickets to fly the two of them down there. Since the date of departure was so close — he wanted to leave as soon as possible — he wasn’t sure whether he’d find tickets. But, apparently, he did. 

With that smile on his face, he announced to her, “They have three more tickets! I’ll go pick them up!” Because Giuseppe never saw the use of the internet. Sungyeol had promised to buy him a computer later, though when later would come wasn’t today. Grabbing his jacket from the kitchen table, a skip in his step, he approached her still slumping form and leaned down, leaving a kiss on her lips that was intended to be just a peck. 

That had him lost for a moments because just a peck wasn’t enough. She brought him further down with her, a little voice in the back of his head suggesting he climb back into the large couch with her and sleep for as long as an infinite amount of time was — even if it lasted forever. 

It was when his back started to strain itself to lean down to her that he moved back, pulling away his hands that had cupped her face, picking up the jacket he had discarded in order to do so. 

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, before he sprinted out of the house. 

And while he’s wishing this can last forever, she’s faced with the inevitability of an ending. 

Giuseppe’s hand slid in front of her as they ate lunch alone together. After a series of smiles and gestures earlier that she interpreted as, “Please eat,” she had gratefully accepted the light lunch of a sandwich with a side of tomato and basil soup. Since Sungyeol had not yet arrived back from the travel agency he went running off to, it was just the two of them. A coincidental circumstance that Giuseppe had been waiting for since yesterday morning. 

“There is no real definition,” were the words written on the slip of paper under his fingers. That he revealed bit by bit as his hand retracted back, “of Love.”

Because he didn’t know the words to say when she asked her question, he went looking for them. He visited a library that was fifteen minutes away on foot — a distance that took him all of yesterday afternoon to traverse. He discovered his words, how to write them down, how to make them as permanent as he was able, with the help of the librarian there. 

“You have to find it.” Was what the second slip he placed on top of it said. And another, “You have to find what love means to you.” And then another, “Your own form of love.”

Because it wasn’t something you grew into or learnt along the way, it was something to be found. It was something you had to search for in order to find. Not something that could be taught. 

Not something you should take advantage of. 

The last piece of paper he presented to her was one he showed with hesitance. Because he wasn’t sure he wanted to break the forever he had witnessed since Hyunjoo first arrived. The smile on Sungyeol’s face that flew so high the plummet downwards towards the ground would be anything but painless. But, mostly, the ignorant, innocent affections of young “love.” 

Still, he did. 

Because even though forever couldn’t last as long as it wanted to, there was something even more beautiful waiting around the corner for Lee Sungyeol and Song Hyunjoo.

When he drew he hand back, the words on the white, square sheet read,  “While you find yours, let him find his.”

She had time to think after that. Much longer than she perhaps should have.

He promised he’d be right back. Back before she changed her mind. Back before she packed her bags. Back before she decided to leave him. He promised he would be. 

Had he arrived even an hour, ten minutes, a single second before he did, then maybe she wouldn’t have left. Maybe she would have stayed in paradise forever. In Italy with him. Him and her. Where no one and nothing else mattered more than the fleeting kisses and the forever smiles. 

Or maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything. Even if he had come back before she had truly thought long and hard about Giuseppe’s words, even if she had only entertained them, maybe that wouldn’t have changed anything at all. Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps, perhaps not. 

She had her own promises to keep. To herself and to others. To everyone and everything. 

“I’m leaving for Springfield tomorrow,” she told him after he dismally informed her he was only able to buy one of those three tickets — as though Fate knew what was in store for him.

He couldn’t find words immediately. He considered many things, but nothing seemed right. Does this mean we’re breaking up? Were we even “dating” in the first place? Did I do something wrong? How can I fix this?

“You’re sure?” Was what he asked in the end. 

Because, somehow, he knew. Among all the voices that yelled and whispered to him in the back of his head, one of the quiet ones knew. Knew he couldn’t keep this up. Knew he couldn’t keep her tucked away under his arm forever. Knew that maybes and perhaps didn’t matter in the end. 

She ended it all cleanly so that he wouldn’t have to find more words. She made it easy for him, giving him a certain type of love that was hard to replicate. That was tedious. That she didn’t have to give, but she gave anyway — as she had done since she arrived.

“Thank you for forever, Sungyeol. For long boat rides and longer hugs. Tight hugs. Warm hugs. For letting me take advantage of you. For accepting my affections back ten-fold. For companionship when we both needed it. Thank you.”

Maybe she would have found out how to love him one day, had she stayed. Perhaps. Perhaps not. 

And as she went one way and he went the other, towards different planes in this lonely airport, steps echoing farther and farther in the distance as they went their separate ways, she had little doubt this would be the end of their story. That he wouldn’t come back, just like he promised he would. Maybe it would take forever. Maybe not. 

Either way, with one of those perfect, forever smiles, she laughed as she said, “Arrivederci, Sungyeol.” 

Until they meet again, because this wasn’t a goodbye. 

Because she decided she wouldn’t say goodbyes anymore. 

And he felt like crying without reason. 

Him. And Her. 

A/N:

I have a surprise for all of you. One last snippet of Italy before we regretfully leave this paradise. Later, but not much later. (Edit: Later has come! Read the next chapter!)

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Springfield/Illusory Discussion Forum Series: The Mysteries Involved, Sailing Ships, Solving the Love Polygon, & Help!