He always thinks she looks best in white, that he remembers her best in that colour as well― from her hapkido uniform to the oversized t-shirts she wears in the summer, from her school blouse to this stunning dress that complements her beauty perfectly. The purest, most untainted colour. It’s the colour that represents first love.

She is his first love. Brave, bold, boyish Chorong. Brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking Park Chorong. Best friends, that’s what they are. The ones who know each other better than anyone else did, does and ever will. He takes pride in that, because Chorong is not an easy subject to learn. All those years they have spent growing up together and she still manages to surprise him every now and then.

Like right now, for example.

She takes his hands, gives it a little squeeze and smiles at him, snapping him out of his trance. “What are you thinking about?” she asks.

Her hand feels warm in his, and he likes it a lot, especially the way they fit like pieces of puzzle put together. Their hands used to be only the size of their palm. He wonders when did they grow so big. He never realized it, and he thinks it’s probably because he’s always holding her hand all along ― picking up her when she falls, running with her from the grandfather whose house is next to the playground after their baseball accidentally hits his window, making her feel protected when she’s crying outside her father’s hospital room.

He returns her smile and squeezes her hand back. “Nothing,” he tells her. “Are you ready?”

She looks forwards at the huge mahogany doors which separate the two of them and the hall and exhales a heavy sigh. “I think I am.”

“You’re not regretting choosing me, are you?”

Playfully Chorong nudges him with her shoulder because old habits die hard and sends him a grin. “Of course not. There isn’t any other person out there that I would choose other than you.”

He is six when he first meets her, at the hapkido centre that belongs to her father where his lessons are held at. He always finds it funny that his mother decided to sign him up for taekwondo lessons at a hapkido centre which he agrees to take after much coaxing and persuasion (and some bribing involved), and it is on the first day that he sees her.

She sticks by her father and follows him around wherever he goes like a gum. Hoya watches her from the corner of his eyes and sometimes she catches him and quickly hides behind her daddy. He’s curious about her but doesn’t say anything.

He continues to steal glances at her even after his lesson has started, while she joins the hapkido class on the other side. She catches him staring again when she is called up to show a demonstration and instead of hiding, this time she demonstrates a kick that looks powerful enough that Hoya avoids meeting her eyes later.

“Can you solve this question for me?”

It is the last day of summer vacation, and in the living hall they sit facing each other on the floor at the table Mrs Lee set for them with the sliding doors open so the heat from the house can escape. By chance Hoya and Chorong somehow started to get along and become friends, best friends at that, mostly because when elementary school began for the two kids they find themselves in the same class and decided to stick together since neither is friendly enough to step outside their comfort zone.

“I can’t solve it for you but I can teach you how so you can do it on your own from now on,” he tells her.

Eight-year-old Chorong pouts but doesn’t complain, because there would be no one else to help her with her homework if she does, and she may need to stand on the chair in class the next day if she doesn’t complete her homework. Hoya, on the other hand, has already finished his in the first week and is now reading manhwa happily, much to her envy. She moves to sit next to him while he reads and tries to understand the question.

“Did you forget? Teacher Kim showed us how to solve this kind of problems many times in class. What did you do in class instead of paying attention, Park Chorong, daydreaming again?”

“Quit nagging and just teach me, aish!”

“I will stop nagging if you stop daydreaming”

It erupts again from there, another pointless childish fight where they point out each other’s bad habits and start calling names. Mrs Lee comes to the rescue not long after with juice and watermelon slices for them, shaking head at their antics. “Will you two ever stop bickering?”

“He started first!”

“She started first!” They both say in unison.

Mrs Lee simply chuckles and lets them to continue putting the blame on one another because it’s almost a daily routine already. Chorong comes by to their residence a bit too often that the house has become the girl’s second home, and she doesn’t mind it. Mrs Park passed away when her daughter was too young to remember even her face, except that of which Chorong sees in photos. Her father gets too busy at the centre at times, so Mrs Lee lets Chorong stays at their home as long as she wants.

“How much more you haven’t done?” she asks the girl. Chorong counts the questions she has left and holds up three fingers. “Three questions?”

The girl shakes her head. “Three pages.”

Upon hearing her answer, Hoya is the one who drops his jaw. “What have you been doing the entire vacation?”

“Playing with you, what else?”

“I’ve been playing with you too but I did my homework ages ago!”

Their banter starts again, and Mrs Lee stops them before it gets worse. “Alright, alright, stop fighting. Chorong, hurry finish your work. Once you’re done we can go out and buy some groceries.”

“Can I get some ice-cream afterwards?” Chorong asks hopefully.

“Sure you can.”

“Only Chorong?” Hoya pouts a little.

“See? Auntie loves me more,” she teases, nudging him with her arm.

This time his mother doesn’t stop them but only smiles watching the two. “Ice-cream’s waiting,” she reminds them before taking her leave.

It has always been apparent that Hoya doesn’t really enjoy taekwondo, so eventually he quits taking lessons after a few years enduring it and even reaching the second highest ranking in belts. It is not unexpected for Chorong to get upset when she hears that. She stops talking to him all morning in school, refuses to go home with him and even stays at the hapkido centre instead of spending time at the Lee residence like she usually does.

On the third day he gives in and climbs up to her bedroom through the balcony in the middle of the night (because she refused to answer the phone). She yelps and shrieks at first at the sight of him, causing her dad to sprint to her room, but the latter laughs it off and lets the boy in despite his daughter’s protest.

“Monkey.”

“How long are you going to ignore me?” Hoya presses.

She takes time before answering, her finger twirling the hems of her blanket around, his feet swinging back and forth as he sits at the edge of her bed waiting for her. “But I was really sad,” she finally says.

“Are you still sad now?”

“A bit.”

“I’m sorry.”

There’s a silence that falls between them, with the only sounds heard are the clock ticking away and their soft breathings. He gazes at her and cracks a smile. “If I promise you something, will you stop being sad?”

“Promise what?”

He thinks about it for a second, arranging his words so they won’t confuse her. “I promise that throughout our whole friendship, you can make three requests from me. Anything you want, everything you want. Unless of course if you tell me to go and die or something similar. But except for that, I will do anything you tell me to,” he explains. “And no expiry date, so this promise is valid as long as we still breathe.”

“Anything?”

He nods.

“Okay,” came as her reply. They link their fingers to seal the deal. By the time their thumbs meet, a smile appears on Chorong’s face, and when he sees that he finally understands why these past few days have been cloudy for him.

And with that their friendship, resumes again.

It’s not always sunny in his home. The Lees are the picture perfect family ― the husband with a high flying career at a well-known company, beautiful wife and stay-at-home mother, and a son who excels in school. However as the name itself suggests, it’s only perfect on the outside.

At the age of thirteen the family disintegrates after Mr Lee is caught in a money swindling act, and an affair on top of that. His wife packed his belongings before he could do it himself and chases him out of the house that she keeps (it’s under her name, after all), no longer able to withstand an unhappy marriage.

Hoya begs her mother for them to stay when she expresses her wish to move somewhere else and eventually she agrees. That night his best friend comes and keeps him company. His mother lets them watch the television although it’s already past their bedtime, and the whole neither of them speaks a word.

It is not until when he’s laying a mattress down on the floor while Chorong is about to slip into his bed that she finally breaks the silence by telling him to sleep on the bed as well. He obeys without saying anything, and when the lights are out and the darkness is all they can see, she calls his name softly.

“Can I use my first request now?” she asks. He only murmurs something she can’t quite hear as a response, but she knows what he means. “I want you to stop holding back now and let them all out.”

“Let what out?” he mumbles back.

“Your tears.”

He doesn’t reply to that, and once again silence engulfs them. But when she finds his hand under their shared blanket and squeezes it gently, for the first time in his life he lets his tears flow.

In the winter of their fifteen-year-old they take the entrance examination for the high school of their choice together, and several restless weeks later while wearing thick jackets with scarves covering their necks and gloves protecting their hands from the bitter wind they head back to check the results.

“You’ll make it for sure,” Chorong sighs. “I should’ve studied more. There were questions that I didn’t know and some that I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t really think straight. I even forgot that formula you taught me before. Maybe I won’t get in.”

Hoya nudges her arm with his shoulder (she’s several centimetres taller than him now since girls hit puberty and grows faster than boys), a habit that he unconsciously developed after being friends with her all these years, and cracks a smile for her. “You’ll make it,” he reassures her.

She tries to let his words sink in and convince her as she looks at the students flocking in in front of the notice board. Feeling her hand being grabbed, she hears Hoya’s quiet “Come on!” before he leads her while squeezing in between the throng of people to get a better view of the board. With her student number clutched in her other hand, she closes her eyes and prays almost desperately, afraid of searching for her number in case she can’t find it.

“Hey, it’s there!” Hoya exclaims next to her, tiny puffs of mist appearing from his mouth.

Hearing that, she opens her eyes again and looks at her friend. “See? I told you you’d get in.”

He flicks his fingers on her forehead, earning a scowl from her. “It’s your number, you idiot.”

True enough, her number is right there in the list, sitting proudly somewhere in the second row. She jumps a little excitedly, trying to refrain herself from letting out a scream out of glee, her eyes slightly damp with tears. “If I were an idiot I wouldn’t be here, you know,” she says at last, earning a chuckle from him. “What about you?”

“There,” he points. It’s the second spot, and Chorong smiles because she wouldn’t expect any less.

She gives him a hug and genuinely congratulates him, delighted that they made it to the school they wanted after much hard work (and a lot of scolding from Hoya for dozing off while studying). “Looks like you’ve got a new rival,” she tells him, her eyes on the top position. “Wonder who.”

He follows her gaze but simply shrugs. “Let’s go tell mum and your dad, and then maybe we can go out and celebrate.”

It is spring, his favourite time of the year. Flowers of various colours, sizes and shapes are blossoming and filling the sight and flooding the streets with their delicate petals. It is still chilly especially when the cold winter wind that is still lingering blows, but slightly warmer now that summer is approaching. Hoya breathes in and there is a smell of mixed fragrance of the blooming floras and budding hopes.

He takes in the scenery as he waits outside the gate for his best friend. Juniors like him pass him by every now and then amongst the flock of students, some stop for a second to greet him while mostly just shuffle away. It’s Chorong’s turn to clean the classroom today, and he has promised to wait for her. But knowing her, he can already guess that it would take a while.

He is fiddling with his phone when he feels a poke on his cheek. Glancing sideways, he finds Chorong half-laughing, her crescent eyes crinkling into thin slits. There are a couple of cherry blossom petals on top of her head, and her hair is pulled behind in a messy ponytail. All of a sudden his stomach feels funny and he wonders if the rice rolls he ate for lunch this afternoon have gone bad.

Chorong drags Hoya to the hapkido centre from time to time even when she doesn’t have lessons just to make him feel bad for quitting. Except for making her sad about it back then, he never really does regret quitting.

“Not even once?” she asks when he told her about it.

He shakes his head in a no. “It wasn’t even my choice to join. I only did because mum promised she would buy me the comic books I wanted if I do.”

“Well, at least you enjoyed one thing about it.”

“What’s that?”

“Meeting me,” she grins.

Her reply takes him by surprise because it is the truth. He thinks back about those times when he used to steal glances at her from afar, wanting to be friends but too shy to even say hello. When he doesn’t answer, she nudges him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his reverie and causing him to almost drop the hot dog stick he’s holding. “You’re so cheesy, Park Chorong,” he manages at last.

It is past afternoon when they are walking back from the centre. The weather is nice that day, unlike the typical summer day with scorching hot sun, so they decided to take a detour around the neighbourhood to enjoy the bliss, passing by their school, the convenience store they usually drop by on their way back home to buy ice-creams even during the winter, and past the large field which is almost filled with kids and boys their age.

“Hey, watch out!”

Unfortunately, the warning comes too late (especially for Chorong who always reacts a beat too slow), and before she knows it she feels a loud thud on her head. Losing her balance, she falls to the ground and she thinks she might be seeing stars.

Hoya drops to his knees upon seeing his best friend’s situation. “Rong-ah, are you okay?” he asks all panicky, giving her shoulder a shake.

“Try getting hit on the head and see if you’re okay,” she retorts, clicking her tongue as she massages her head. “Do you think it’ll swell? What if it causes a lump? Ah, I hate this,” she continues to mumble.

He flicks his fingers on the other side of her side and receives a glare from her in return. “Yah, is that important? You should be more concerned if your brain will get even more damaged than it already is now.”

She is muttering some incomprehensible under her breath when a boy in soccer jersey comes to them with an anxious expression on his face. “Hey, are you alright?” he asks, still panting as a result from his sprint. I kicked the ball too hard and it flew to the wrong direction. I’m really sorry.”

Hoya looks up and, finding a familiar face towering over them, a smile graces his face. “Hey!”

“Oh?” the boy reacts, a little surprised at first but doesn’t forget to return the smile later.

“Are you two friends?” Chorong interjects, confused.

“Right, this is Woohyun, he’s in my class. Woohyun, this is Chorong,” Hoya introduces the two as he helps her back on her feet.

The boy, now identified as Woohyun, beams at her. “Hello, Chorong. Good to meet you,” he says, before adding. “Or maybe not really. Is your head okay?”

It is Hoya who answers while suppressing his laugh. “Her head is okay, except she’s worried there’s a probability that there might be a lump. If that happens you should be prepared.”

“Uh, are you going to sue me?” he asks her, brows furrowed together.

“No, but I will kick a ball real hard and make sure it hits your head just as hard as yours hit mine,” she returns

He frowns slightly and glances at Hoya. “Is she really okay?”

Hoya could only laugh at the two. “Don’t worry, she’s more than okay.”

An additional company slips into the usually empty seat next to Hoya’s at the cafeteria.

“Hello,” Woohyun greets cheerfully.

“Why are you here?” Chorong demands, still full with rice and the side dishes.

“It’s a free country. We’re all allowed to eat lunch wherever we want, right?” comes as his reply, his carefree smile never left his face. “How’s your head, by the way? Assuming by the looks of it nothing went wrong, I hope.”

“No, I had a concussion after I got home and ambulance came and I had to stay at the hospital for several days, doing CT scans and all to check if there was any clotted blood, and turns out there was so I had to undergo a surgery where they cut my head open for few hours before stitching it back. Aside from that, nothing went wrong, I hope.”

He stops chewing and stares at her without blinking, frozen in his seat.

“No, that’s a lie. I’m perfectly healthy.”

When Woohyun still doesn’t react, Hoya burst out laughing and returns her high five. “I’m really sorry, but that’s Chorong,” he tells his friend.

It takes Woohyun several more seconds to take it all in. When he finally does, he sends her a glare and starts coughing from the food that he was barely able to swallow down. “Seriously! If I had a heart attack I wouldn’t have made it and you’d be the one responsible instead.”

“Oh, before I forget, did you have something else you wanted to say, though?” Hoya wonders when his laughter has subsides.

“I was going to ask you about that homework Teacher Han gave yesterday ― there’s a question I don’t get so I thought maybe you’d know. But never mind,” Woohyun replies, pushing his tray slightly further away from himself. “I think I even lost my appetite.”

Chorong continues to giggle as she spoons herself another mouthful of rice.

As time passes, somehow the seat beside Hoya’s continues to be occupied by Woohyun although none of them ever really mentioned or commented anything on it. It’s almost too easy how he falls into their patterns, although not that often, but he joins them every now and then, and neither Hoya nor Chorong minds it.

Woohyun is the life and soul of a party, sweeping people off their feet with his distinctive charms and gullible smile. It feels like they’ve known him all along from the way he can laugh at the jokes that others normally won’t understand, joining their study sessions and spending half of the time teasing Chorong’s cluelessness when it comes to numbers and formulae besides giving Hoya a hand when he runs out of patience, as well as inviting them to hang out with his other group of friends and not make them feel out of place.

Hoya never really does Woohyun’s presence much thought either. In fact he thinks he likes the new addition to their little troupe (but then two’s too small a number to be called a troupe).

High school passes them by in a breeze, and before they could realize it they are already in the senior year, the storm that is CATs are now over and soon senior dance is rolling by.

Somehow Hoya and Chorong find themselves in the school hall decorating the place with balloons and ribbons and all tacky things a high school prom needs. Without notifying them beforehand Woohyun slyly inserted their names among the committees since they didn’t have enough forces (while he himself is nowhere to be found), and in return he promised to treat them to pizza.

They are painting what seems to be the backdrop of the stage ― a row of aligned trees on each side with a small path in the middle to form a boulevard, a staircase situated at the end leading towards a supposed secret garden which is the theme of the event. Hoya thinks it’s a bad idea to put them in charge of the painting process because neither of them has the talents and skills, and their constant bickers just make it a lot worse.

“Branches are not supposed to be that long!”

“Why do your leaves look so weird?”

“Secret garden is supposed to be fairy tale-ish mystical, not haunted house-ish!”

A task that could have been done in an hour ends up being more than three hours, and after almost losing their voice yelling at each other and paints everywhere on their face and even hair, the backdrop is finally done and he must say that the result impresses him quite a bit. He is still smiling and admiring their work when Chorong speaks, her voice soft and almost inaudible amidst the noise from other committee members doing respective jobs around them.

“Did you ask anyone yet?”

“Ask what?” he wonders back.

“To the dance.”

“Oh.” He’s quiet for a while, not really expecting that. He considers his answer. Evidently he hasn’t asked anyone, and he never gave it a thought either. Perhaps he’s just used to the thought that he doesn’t need to give anyone else a thought because Chorong is always there, from eating lunch to celebrating Chuseok together. He’s so used to her being there that he never really thought of the possibilities that maybe someday she won’t be. But he doesn’t tell her that, he doesn’t tell her any of that, so he evades the question. “How about you? Did anyone ask you yet?”

“Yeah,” she replies, and it surprises him because that kind of answers isn’t one of the things that he is used to and plans to. “Woohyun asked me.”

“Oh,” comes as his respond again, mostly because that’s the only response that he can manage without revealing the disappointment in his tone. “That’s good,” he adds afterwards, eyes still fixed on the picture. “Well, uh, actually I’m planning to ask Jinah, from class 2. You know her, right? She’s pretty, and nice too.”

“I see.” She nods and says nothing else. Silence falls between them, loud and uncomfortable and anything but the ones he’s used to. After a while, Yongjoo tells them that there’s nothing else for them to do so they can leave, and quietly they pick up their bag and head home.

The good (bad, sometimes) thing about having been friends for almost their entire lifetime is that they can easily put petty misunderstandings and awkward moments behind them.

He’s over at her house later on prom night ― a best friend duty to see her off despite Chorong restricting him from even seeing her face the entire night. Instead Hoya sits in the living room flipping through television channels with her dad, but neither is really paying attention on the screen. Soon the doorbell rings, followed by a shriek by Chorong warning them not to enter her room just yet just as Woohyun steps into the house, dressed sharply in tux and a simple bowtie. Hoya shrugs at him and the other only laughs.

It is ten minutes later (she insisted she would be done in another minute) and after a series of Hoya’s threats to kick down the door that she only comes out, all three men waiting while she walks down the stairs. He hears a gasp from Mr Park and sees a smile appearing on Woohyun’s lips out of the corner of eyes, while he says nothing because he has no idea what he should say.

She looks beautiful. And although he secretly thinks she always does, tonight she looks the stunning kind of beautiful, the one that makes you drop your jaw way down to the ground and forget all about it.

“Why aren’t any of you guys saying anything?” she complains. “I look weird, don’t I?”

He wants to tell her otherwise, that although it does feel weird seeing her in the white knee length dress that she had picked out with the help (and girly advice) from Yongjoo, she doesn’t look weird at all. But it is Woohyun who steps forward first and tells her all the words he’s still arranging in his head, and it is Woohyun who gets to do the ritual, putting the corsage around her wrist, the one to receive her smile and having her hand in his arm.

Mr Park makes full use of the time to dry up his watery eyes and clear his throat. “I didn’t realize I’ve been raising a girl all these while,” he jokes, only to earn a kick on the shin by his daughter. “I guess I wasn’t wrong.”

Chorong meets his eyes then, and a nervous smile tugs on her lips. “Do I look okay?” she asks.

Hoya nods at her and returns her smile with a confident one. “You look more than okay, Park Chorong.”

Her lips extend wider. Before they could say anything else Mr Park calls for their attention with a camera in hand. “Photo time!” he announces.

Chorong and Woohyun quickly take their place, standing next to each other with a little awkward gap between them until her dad himself yells at them for being ridiculous. Hoya only chuckles at the sight of her pink cheeks and Woohyun’s red ears, but when the latter puts his arm around her Hoya’s chortle stops midway abruptly and gets stuck in his throat.

“Hoya?” she suddenly calls. “Let’s take one too, altogether.”

Woohyun nods approvingly and waves him in to join them. Hesitantly he shuffles towards them and settles at the other side of Chorong, and forces a smile for the camera while Mr Park snaps happily, proud father at his best.

Hoya is about to step aside when Woohyun grabs his wrist. “Hey, you two should have a picture together too,” he says with that smile of his before moving away from the lens’s focus. Hoya looks at Chorong who only keeps her gaze at her dad, and when the latter tells them to be ready for the picture without a word she slips her hand around his arm and slightly leans towards him.

After another series of fixing her hair and reapplying her lip gloss (which she has never used before) and endless complaints and worrying over her everything Mr Park manages to get them out of the house at last, and the place gets so deafeningly quiet afterwards as if a hurricane has just went past it.

“I should make a move too,” Hoya breaks the silence as Mr Park goes through the pictures in his camera, seeming lost in thought.

“Oh right, your date must be waiting. Yeah, don’t keep a girl waiting,” he responds, nodding repeatedly as he ushers the younger boy to the door. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”

“That’s alright.” Hoya shakes his head. “You already let me use this suit. I can’t give you any more trouble.”

“Don’t be silly! What trouble can you ever give me, Hoya?” It’s his turn to shake his head. “I’ve known you all your life. You’re as good as a son to me.”

Smile is the only thing the young boy can manage as he fights inside to press his guilt deep down. “You don’t have to drive me over, really.”

“Alright, then. If you say so.” Mr Park nods again, then holds up his camera with both his hands. “Well, I have to get these pictures printed out,” he says excitedly in a tone that reminds Hoya of a schoolboy waiting for the final bell. Somehow it’s strange seeing him that way, because despite having spent all those years growing up with Chorong, Hoya still remembers him best as the strict instructor with a grim expression on his face at the hapkido centre.

He is about to reach for the door when Mr Park speaks again.

“You know Hoya, I always thought that if the time like this comes when I need to let go of Chorong’s hands to another man, that man would be you.”

Hoya doesn’t say anything back, and neither does the older man, so he bows again and disappears behind the door.

He is on his fifth round of the race when his phone vibrates in his pocket, the noise in the games arcade place too loud it muffles down the sound of his newly changed ringtone (out of boredom). Chorong’s name appears on the screen, and he swallows before pressing the answer button once he’s gone outside to escape the blares, expecting to hear her yelling at him for not being where he’s supposed to be.

However her voice is different when he picks up the call, a total mess between whimpering and sniffling. Hoya tries hard to make out the words she’s spluttering over the phone while telling her to breathe and speak slower, and quickly he makes a run after connecting “my dad”, “ambulance” and “critical”.

She is sitting on the floor outside the emergency room when he found her, alone hugging her knees with her face in her lap. She’s still wearing her dress. A blanket which probably is given by one of the nurses is covering her legs. Carefully he makes his way towards her, running and walking at once while trying not to make a noise.

“Chorong?” he calls once he’s within her reach, slightly bending down to his knees to get a closer look at her. Her makeup is still not yet removed, albeit already smudged and her hair out of place.

She looks up at the sound of her name, and when she finds her best friend standing before her, she instantly jumps to her feet into his safe embrace, and finally she lets her tears fall.

He doesn’t ask her if someone has come out from the room to inform her anything about her father, he doesn’t mention about the dance that he skipped out, and he doesn’t tell her to stop crying either. Instead he only lets her borrow his shoulder as he sits next to her on the floor and lets her use his (her dad’s) jacket, and eventually she starts to speak.

“You lied,” she points out. “I saw Jinah. She came with Chulyong.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I never did ask her.”

“Where were you the whole time?”

He takes time before answering, deciding that this is not the time to defend his pride. “Games.”

“Why? I mean, you even borrowed the sui―” she stops midsentence, realizing where the end of it leads to.

“I don’t know. I just… didn’t feel like going. And I didn’t want to tell you so because I thought it would ruin your mood. It sounds like I’m making excuses, and I’m making you sound like an excuse, but I just really didn’t want to go.”

The rush in the hospital continues as the two of them sit there watching people passing them by. Minutes pass without a single person coming out from the room and a single word exchanged between them. Her head is still rested comfortably on his shoulder (he’s grown taller than her now) and their hands are still interlocked.

Hoya breathes out a sigh and feels a silver liquid running down his cheek. “He thought I was going to the dance and told me to keep an eye out for you. I did neither of those.”

Her father didn’t make it.

The funeral is held two days later with the help of Hoya’s mother and some relatives who come as soon as they heard the news of the passing. Chorong exchanges her white dress for a black one, while Hoya wears the same suit since he doesn’t have one of his own. He was against it at first, because you’re not supposed to wear a suit that you borrowed from someone to that person’s funeral, but she told him to keep it for himself.

Woohyun helps with the guests who come to pay their last respect, serving food and drink and even answering the same old repeated questions of how Mr Park passed. Hoya’s mother is in between her son and her almost daughter, holding her hand to dear life because neither of them is strong enough on their own.

A lot of relatives are there, most of them she doesn’t even remember having, his father’s friends, as well as the kids from school and the ones from the hapkido centre, some with their parents. They give Chorong hugs and whisper words of encouragement, “It must have been tough on you” and whatnots. She only nods at all of them, half-listening.

When the day ends and Hoya’s mother tells her to come over and spend the night with them again like the previous nights, Chorong politely shakes her head and smiles. “I need to learn to get used to it now,” she says softly yet strongly, and it breaks his heart seeing how vulnerable she looks.

Graduation suddenly appears forgettable for them. They don’t remember receiving their diplomas, smiling for the obligatory photos (Hoya remembers the films that Mr Park didn’t get to develop then) and tossing their hats to the air.

The three of them find each other amongst the crowd. Woohyun makes a promise to stay in contact because after all he’s the only one who’s heading towards a different direction. Hoya and Chorong were to enrol in Konkuk University together in spring but with different courses, while Sungkyunkwan University awaits Woohyun, the brainiest of the bunch. They share a joke and a photo for one last time together as high school students, the final moment as three in their idiotic teenage years before stepping out as well grown adults.

Chorong doesn’t cry when she says goodbye to her friends and teachers, and he wonders if she has run out of tears to shed.

A/N: This is supposed to be a oneshot, but somehow it becomes too long, so I'm splitting it into two parts since it might
be too draggy if I posted the whole thing in one go. Part 2 is still in the process!