The ocean was calm for once, sprayed with teal and periwinkle shades, the rays drifting perfectly in the middle of the view as the sunset teased. The crisp autumn breeze wafted and I picked the already tattered pearl pink coating off of my nails, distracting myself from his endless drawling. Girlfriends had come and gone, my ears spent taking in genuine and false sentiments about “heartbreak”, along with pathetic tales starring flirting noonas that would make my stomach churn with resentment and disgust all the time. All I gave him back were countless nods, meaningless mumbles and a couple of pats on the back.

We sat next to each other looking ahead towards the water, in sync with our almost daily routine – one talks, one half-listens.

“Anyway,” he sighed, “she said something about me being ‘too good’ for her or some rubbish along the lines.”

“What now, you were hurt?” I snorted at the thought. Kyungsoo had never stopped to dwell on a typical flirtatious affair in the past.

“Not really. I don’t know.”

“Poor you.”

“I kissed her.”

The sun was already halfway home. The drifting rays had disappeared and the yellows, pinks and oranges danced by the horizon. The waves still slapped violently against the breakwater, sending squawking seagulls off in mid-air. Desperately I longed to transform into one; I wanted to vanish off of the face of the earth and hastily fly away from it all. Certainly the startling ocean waves would have stung less. I’ve told myself numerous times to rip away my emotional Velcro from his arbitrary physical encounters, but I fall short every single time. It was either too stubborn or my willpower not to was too strong.

“Oh” was all I could muster to say.

“I never thought I would. It just happened. She said I was great, though, for a first timer,” he grinned, almost beaming.

“Lies, lies, lies.”

“Ah, jinja, go and ask her yourself!”

“Whatever, she was probably out of her wits considering she actually fell for your classic this-is-my-first-kiss crap,” I stammered, barely managing to get the words out.

“It was a real kiss. Legitimate. Genuine. Tongue-”

“Okay, stop, I think I’ve heard enough.”

“You know, lips moving, opening and closing like those in The Notebook.”

“Egh, I hate that movie.”

“It was a book first, you dummy.”

“I know.”

“You’re still as stubborn as ever.”

“You’re still as cocky as ever.”

“It felt strange, though. I didn’t see fireworks or unicorns but I really nailed it,” his eyes were almost twinkling as he stared into space. They didn’t look happy, they just sparkled. For a split second, I thought to myself that maybe it really was heartbreak, but his conceited remarks drew me away from all sympathy.

“It probably only counts if you saw fireworks or unicorns.”

“What do you know? You got kissed on the cheek. How pathetic is that for an eighteen-year-old.”

“Hey!”

“I guess you really won’t believe me, then?”

Rapidly jolting out of his seat, his feet shuffled, turning his body to face mine. I wasn’t wary of the tsunami of emotions that was more than able to envelop all of me when the only one I had my eyes on for almost eight years invaded my personal space. Descending into a painful array of slow-motion frames, I was sure I gasped for air, struggling to maintain my balance. My arms wanted – no, needed – to lean onto at least something, but they wouldn’t budge. It was frustrating and I was completely powerless, but before I could try again, I had the warmest lips in the world moving in tandem against mine.

Do Kyungsoo was kissing me.

Frenzied butterflies emerged from somewhere inside my body and mercilessly attacked the pits of my guts. The subtle sound of autumn leaves crackling now became strangely audible, my body deaf to the nipping breeze biting my skin. I blinked, and all I saw was a slightly candlelit and pink sky – it was the best I could fathom. The sun had probably set, too. My flustered senses nagged me to come to them, yet voluntarily, I refused. The state I was trapped in I could almost call a state of grace; all too precious to let it slip out of my own hands. It was unbelievably nauseating. I caught myself looking for fireworks and unicorns, but the next few seconds were only a kaleidoscopic blur.

Pulling away and startling me, Kyungsoo rested his index finger on the bare nape of my neck. Gradually, he started tapping to a lost rhythm – one I couldn’t figure out straightaway. It was more than enough to pour hot, boiling nostalgia all over me, begging time to rewind and haul me back to the “state of grace” moment I had on my own hands seconds ago. My sense of smell was finally starting to rise back to life, and the first thing I inhaled was his light, peppermint cologne intertwined with a blessed natural, masculine scent. My sight was still struggling to adjust back into normalcy, but his ever beautiful, colossal eyes were now visible.

“I told you,” Kyungsoo chuckled, his lips curving slightly into an infuriating smirk.

“What-”

“Oh, please. Stop looking so surprised. This ahjumma enjoyed it.”

“What, told me what-”

“See, I’m so gifted at this I stuffed up your short-term memory.”

He wasn’t gifted. I could remember as easy as I could recite all the gelato flavours – including those on the Today’s Special menu – from Gustavo’s just around the corner. The blunt words and illegible expressions exchanged seconds ago will be eternally embedded on my brain, eradicating all possibilities of failing to recall anything. After eight long years of a so-called friendship, finally here it was: an almost desperate spark of hope barely qualified to light my eight long years of unrequited love.

I knew it didn’t mean a thing – it was just a puzzle piece driven by testosterones to secure manly pride and to stress a point. I did remember everything, yet my tongue seemed to be paralysed by an indecipherable force. The cold index finger was still tapping against my skin.

“No, I-”

“I have no clue as to why she would have refused something ‘too good’ anyway,” he was chuckling, giant pupils and eye whites staring intently at my face. Gently, I moved away from his grasp, avoiding the dreaded eye contact. The butterflies had calmed down but I was deprived of air. I turned my head away from his. The sun had set completely, but it was the warmest autumn as far as I could recall. I plopped myself back down onto the park bench and a frail wall of silence settled in between us.

“Should I walk you home?” he croaked.

“I’ll be alright,” stealthily I got up on my feet, not daring to look him in the eye.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure.”

“Are you angry because I-”

I was angry. Hot tears were threatening to fall so I tightened my grip on the sides of my jeans, fingernails digging fiercely onto my flesh. Trembling, I took two steps away from the bench and frantically pleaded my composed self to stay for a little longer.

“I’ll be fine. I’m okay. Goodnight.”

The dark had completely engulfed the sky and finally I let the tears flow. I was angry – nothing could be further away from “fine”. For eight years, lies pulled me through and pretense had been such a loyal companion, and for the very first time, I could feel it gradually betraying me. I felt weak and fragile – inferior to my bestfriend’s cruelty and greed. But the most agonizing of all, more than my involuntary surrender to give away my first kiss, was waking up to the most painful truth – it was almost real.

Walking away from the pandemonium of thoughts and endless feigning, all I wanted to do then was to break away from all my nonsense.