lv. Circles IV

Fingers flicking through strands of your ponytail, Leo sat cross-legged beside you on the couch. He didn’t even try to explain his addiction to the act he’d been performing for over half an hour now. It was, overall, a harmless gesture of affection. Other than the slight tugs he’d give every now and then, it didn’t bother you in the least. 

Your eyes were trained instead on the late-night reality program that played in front of you: Thailand’s version of the Bachelorette. The woman on the screen was stereotypically beautiful, tone softer than her naturally youthful looking features. Over the buzzing feedback of her voice, you asked Leo what she was saying. 

It was obvious she was deciding who she’d eliminate from her roster of potential suitors next, her fingers twirling a rose between them. She seemed conflicted, and you were left curious as to the explanation she was now giving in her private interview. It only took a moment for Leo to translate her words; your own knocking him out of his hair-twirling reverie.

“I don’t want to send Mark home.” He began, brows knit, attempting to piece it together in a way that made sense in your own language, “I don’t like him as much as I like Jackson. But, I feel like Mark needs me. If I tell him to go home now, if I leave him out in the rain, cold and wet and without an umbrella,” the saying got lost in translation, but he continued nevertheless, “I can’t do it. He needs me too much.”

Leo paused, her following sentence rendering him speechless for a moment. Stalling his hand from raking through your hair for a second. Giving him doubt where he’s surely had it before for more than a million moments and seconds.

With a blank expression, he nodded as he said, “And it feels good to be needed.”

In the end, Jackson went home. 

You believed it was time for you to do the same.

The undeniable fact of the matter was that you’d attract attention. Whether it was while you were playing dress up or playing to win the game Hakyeon had knocked you out twice in was all up to you. Jackson or Mark. What you wanted, or who wanted you. The decision was simple as you opened your suitcase, slipping on a pair of red jeans and pulling over a black logo tee — an old one Zico almost threw out one day last Spring. 

Charm bracelet dangling from your wrist, flashing a brilliant silver, you jolted away from your mirror as you suddenly heard the door to the room open. You pushed your sentimental memories down momentarily, taking in the form of the woman who now stood in the doorway. And, you had to admit, she wasn’t what you pictured.

Shorter than average. Sun-kissed skin. Chestnut brown hair naturally curling like ramen, framing her round face. Eyes shaped like tear drops always on the verge of falling, she stared on at you. 

She didn’t have to say she didn’t like you.

It was obvious from her silence alone; never mind the daggers she was throwing as she glared on at you at the opulent vanity.

You were clearly out of your element. 

She was more than willing to take advantage of that. 

“You must be Hakyeon’s mother.” You took tentative steps forward, judging her reaction to your growing closeness. “My name is Song Hyunjoo.”

She remained unfazed, arms crossed against a well-endowed chest. Indifferent to the disrespectfully mocking tone your voice had adopted. Seeming to be unaffected by your abrupt appearance at her home. Seemingly the very opposite as her fingers clenched into the creases of her elbows. 

You positively drove her insane just by standing before her — never mind daring to say a single word.

Once more, it was easy to tell. Seeing as how the Chas rarely dealt with outbursts against them, such as the one Sooyoung had made yesterday night, mother Cha most likely failed to develop a poker face in the grinning face of rebellion. Her shaking hands. Her steady gaze. Her failure to respond. She was absolutely livid at the entire situation.

Though, in a sense, so were you.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than stare at me all day.” You reminded her, Ravi having told you he’d come to get you at seven — a time now only a handful of minutes away. “We both do.”

And it was when you moved past her that she spoke. When you attempted to ignore her that she sought to take control of the situation. Snorting loudly, she accused you with words meant to injure. But you were numb to the pain.

Last night’s realization had rendered you senseless.

“You stink of human,” she accused, nose scrunching up in distaste. 

“Can you blame me?” But you were the farthest thing from mindless. “Though, honestly, it’s the half of me I like the most.” 

You had said it out loud enough to yourself right before you fell asleep that admitting it under pressure was easy. 

It was almost too easy.

“As for the other, well it’s clear to me you don’t like my father all too much, do you?”

“A pure bred fraternizes with a human and this is what we end up with.” She was pulling at strings. Tugging at anything and everything she could to unravel your front. “Little girls who don’t know their place in the picking order.”

You laughed like it was all the funniest thing in the world. 

“The food chain rarely goes undisrupted.” 

“You’re not what I pictured.” 

Hyuk’s first sentence when he met you. Dressed up to the nines, tuxedo and black bow tie straight at every angle, perfect at every vertex, he stood before you scrutinizingly. Giving you the same stare Hakyeon’s mother had an hour previous to this, he apparently reached a different conclusion than she.

“You’re like a stress ball.”

Squeeze and feel relief. 

The single casual outfit among stiff suits and sparkling gowns. A breath of fresh air to an otherwise annually dry third evening. A sight for sore eyes, the sorest of them all failing to meet yours even once since you arrived. 

Hakyeon was thoroughly put off by your behavior. Regardless of how rebellious you were by nature, he believed you’d overstepped your bounds tonight. There was no way he hadn’t heard about your less-than-polite first conversation with his mother. Besides that, it was your rejection of the red dress he’d had delivered to the house this morning that had him keeping his distance.

If looks could kill, you’d certainly have died nine times over.

Reason being because the Cha’s pride and joy wasn’t the only one displeased by your entire display. Ken and his ex-brother-in-law, Hyuk, stood at either side of you, the outcasts having taken you under their wing. Despite their pasts, they appeared the best of friends. Even Hakyeon’s beautiful cousin was getting more mileage around the room, no one bothering to call you over for a friendly chat.

The word “family” never sounded so superficial.

“Hakyeon’s father won’t be coming tonight,” Hyuk informed Ken with a smile, more than happy to get rid of his relatives sooner rather than later. “He’s encountered some trouble on our friends’ end.”

“That’s the reason you weren’t here until now?” Ken replied with a nod, handing you a refill of your cup of water that you didn’t ask for. 

“Once a pain, always a pain.” Hyuk raised his drink high, drunk off the sullen atmosphere. Hooded eyes turning to you, he gave a lopsided smile, “A shame we were kept from meeting each other until now. You're the least unpleasant person here tonight.”

You gave one back, raising your new drink up beside his own. A small, plastic clink echoed right after. The past two hours had gone by within the blink of an eye all thanks to Ken and Hyuk — no matter how much the latter argued Leo had asked him to look after you. Both Hakyeon’s and his mother’s avoidance of you in general was enough to drive you insane. In the end, you might have ended up apologizing to Hakyeon outright if not for the two loners.

Apologizing for nothing.

Seeking to somehow change someone who didn’t want to.

“What can you do?” You asked; a question directed at yourself. A question you found the answer to in the wee hours of this very morning. What can you do? What could be done? Nothing. There was certainly no reason to change your behavior if you didn’t want to.

“You’ve given up then?” Ken asked, visibly looking forward to your answer. 

However, proving anyone right was the last thing you wanted, “Of course not.”

Irises following that fluffy head of hair all the way across the room, you didn’t try to hide the feeling that swirled at the pit of your gut. Whose name evaded you until now. It was obvious who you liked more. Even more so who needed you more.

Pity.

You pitied Cha Hakyeon.

But you were done running laps around him.

Taking a sip of water, you mused outloud, “I’m changing up my tactics a bit, is all.”

He cornered you while you were packing your bags. Your flight was tomorrow afternoon, but you were already itching to leave. Home practically called your name from thousands of mile away, missing you each second you spent overseas. Missing you during each of your reoccurring trips lately. You missed it like crazy right back.

You missed Kim Myungsoo like crazy — even if he didn’t share the sentiment.

The brief run-in you had with a picture of Hakyeon’s family on the mantlepiece of Hyuk’s home, right above the unlit fireplace, didn’t help. There was Hakyeon’s mom, his dad, and Hakyeon himself. His father looked too like the enigma you’d left behind to ignore the itching sensation at the base of your throat. 

Hakyeon himself looked too much like his mother as he towered over you, a hand placing itself on top of yours before you could zip your luggage completely closed. In his eyes was the same swirling rage his mother had shown you. He was absolutely livid, and you didn’t blame him. But, you also couldn’t apologize.

Things couldn’t go his way this time.

“I like you, Hyunjoo,” he started, grip loosening at those first three heavy syllables that lulled off his tongue slowly, but surely, “but my patience is running thin.”

“I’m just packing.” You told him, as though he didn’t have eyes. As though he didn’t know you had to leave eventually. His fingers tightened again, like a child refusing to let go of the toy they’d grown too fond of.

“You’re just running away again.” His usual calm, cool composure was nowhere to be found as he spouted hurtful words like a broken faucet, hoping to incapacitate you so much you wouldn’t be able to recover — to leave. “Just like how you ran away from Springfield. Twice now, isn’t it? Twice, you’ve run off without a single person complaining outright otherwise. Twice, because you know what it takes to survive. Pretending you’re human, just another highschool girl, isn’t like you. It isn’t like you to turn away from an opportunity to make yourself stronger. Don't run away this time.”

He was claiming you were selfish, self-serving, and the farthest from a sacrificial lamb.

He was attempting to lay claim to a lot of things.

“I may know what my father is, but I have no idea who he is. Whatever title he has that’s driven your affections for me isn’t mine to adopt.” Pushing his hand off yours, you tugged at the zipper for one second more, finished now. “Whoever you want me to be, I don’t want to be it. I have the good fortune of being able to miss that opportunity if I choose to.”

Far from finished, he captured your shoulders before you could turn away, “Hyunjoo—“

There was something that broke in him. You could tell. A succinct snap filled the space between you and him; his voice shattering. Falling away like fragile glass that you mercilessly stomped on as you interrupted him. Because he called your name like he needed you, and that pitiful emotion threatened to soothe your sore throat like tea laced with honey.

“Hakyeon, why did you bring me here? To show me off? To parade me around like a trophy? Surely there’s not much to show.”

“You don’t understand.” Eyes trembling as he raked his brain for any and all possible ways to change your mind, to sway you in his favor, he decided upon something shallow. He merely struck the surface of what he meant, what he intended for you, with his proclamation of, “You’re everything.”

You shook your head, not buying his sorry attempt to placate you, “The only person who matters to Cha Hakyeon is the almighty Cha Hakyeon in all his glorious wonder.” 

“Hyunjoo—”

He called again, fingers tapping out an anxious score on either shoulder. 

He was losing ground. He needed to say something, anything, at this point. Wasting time was the best shot he had in the face of your resolution to leave him — unbending to the point where he broke again. When the last thing he wanted was that, he said his next three syllables like nothing was easier.

“I love you.”

His insincerity was obvious. His insecurity about his ability to keep you still on his own mantlepiece was growing. At any other time, you would have been giving in to his clever comebacks and witty remarks by now.

Now, all you could feel was sorry.

Sorry everything had gotten this far. Sorry for forcing him to say a confession he didn’t mean. Sorry for Cha Hakyeon himself. 

Stepping back, his hands falling from you, you chided him, “Don’t lie to me like that.”

You had snapped him back into place with that. Stopped him from hurting you and him both. Caused him to regain his senses, a smile alighting upon his sunken face. 

And his demeanor changed then. He was still staring at you like the act itself was better than everything and anything else in the world. He was still grinning like he had a secret he was itching to tell. He was still Cha Hakyeon: the mystery you didn’t want to solve. But, he dropped the lovesick act — the “Fool in Love” role he could never fully understand. 

“If it’s any consolation,” brown eyes sparkling gold, he laughed, “it’s the first one I’ve told you.”

“Do you want a reward for being a subpar human being?” You joked, and he laughed again.

“I’ve always been fond of trophies.” Was his reply, witty and clever and easy.

Lighter than the words he spoke earlier was his following explanation. Because, yes, you had the what, but not the who. He told you everything and anything. The reason? The whole “businessman” persona was one he never even attempted to understand.

As he said later that night, “If the arrangements don’t favor my side, why should I agree to them?” 

Cha Hakyeon is selfish, self-centered, and the lion that preys on the pity of others.

And yet, that same night, he phoned Ken.

His constant circles were too dizzying even for him.

You took solace in the saying that change doesn't happen overnight — or even over three.

But, Hakyeon has to want it.

And, as of then, you still had no idea what he wanted.