Do you know why people are just like magnets?

There are so many similarities between people and magnets.

Human, both have their two mind state in every piece of their flesh. Their soul. Their heart.

Positive. Negative. Evil. Kind.

Magnets can pull each other with its magical magnetic fields. Dragging the opposites to stick with each other. Even with the absence of the reasons.

But there’s also things can change it. When we whack it, pound it, hard, to the though rough earth. Its electricity will gone.

It will become a mere broken stone, only name left behind. Magnet. With no meaning anymore.

Though it’s a bizzarely rare to find those kind of magnet, those kind of situation. But nothing in this mundane world named after ‘impossible’, right?

She stares at the simple picture frame, long but fast at the same time. Her eyes, with its glassy pitch black colour, gleaming faintly in the streaking bright coloured room. White, white, everywhere. Silent whispers inside her robotically telling her to shift her eyes, shifting from the mere picture frame. Begging her to stop. But its still, however, obstinately stay at its place. Eyes fixated on the picture.

“All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.”

She let out a mocking snorts, after her eyes finally could bring itself away from the words written on it. She shakes her head, chuckling with a deride tone like she always do. Lame…

The tip of her lips find its way to the corner of the cup, with fingers swiftly move the plastic carton glass upwards. Bringing the warm, typical taste of coffee once again enters her tounge. Leaving a trace of warmth inside . But even being the rational person she is, no one could cut the invicible, yet eternal connection between human’s brain and imagination. Her mind, just like when she was young, floating in another moment of wonders.

I wonder if pixie dust really exist…

Chin on the palm, fingertips quietly brush her smooth impeccable cheek. Which rigidly shuddered with the sudden cold touch. Her eyes come back gazing on the picture frame, gazing at it with such stoic face and hollow eyes. How perfect her face is when it comes to disguise her heart inside. A perfect façade made from between heaven and hell. Hiding the longing emotions inside her.

She remembers, someone, which somehow blurr to her memories, told her. That pixie dust was exist. None other than right inside every palms of humans, hidden but recognizable by its own owner. The human itself. It was used to change, to fix, to mend what has been broken. Anything. Depend on the human’s way to think.

People with simple mindset, will carelessly use it for the broken vase, or maybe for the tangled shoelaces,  and other similar unimportant things. Very different with the one who always think to the forward. People who always prepare for their future, come always use those precious dust in the emergency part of their life. Which somehow, they predicted it.

But nothing, nothing could against the perfect way yet the most sinful usage of the dust, none other by the short minded one. The selfish souls. Words from the foreign person inside her head telling another sentences to her. Speaking softly, with his gentle voice.

They used the pixie dust to fix the broken heart…

Soojung could see the tiny figure of herself stopped swaying the swing she was sat on to at that time in her head, as it playing a mini private monologue for herself. The little Soojung innocently asked the man whom she didn’t even know back then. Reminiscence of the eight years old girl is never been trustable, Making the twenty one years old woman keeps wondering who he was.

“Is that wrong mister? To fix the broken heart?”

Small smile plastered on the man’s face, fatherly voice greeted her once again. “No, of course not. But it’s against the nature circle of life. Which, somehow, could change the fate that has been lying on the future…” 

  His expedient face flashing as his words twirling inside the present and the little Soojung, both of them still perplexed by the meaning behind it, same old same clueless Soojung. No wonder she well-known like that. Never change, always the same. Yet could be totally different person in a flash of second if she wants to.

If pixie dust really exist, I’ll…

Soojung’s eyes become silent, stopped on its position. As her mind floating with many hopes, wonders, and possibilities that she wants to fix back in the past. But there’s no such thing called time travel. Yet, she’s still doesn’t care, her mind still flying, hoping that maybe, so many things could be changed if pixie dust really exist. The car crash, her mother’s dead accident, preventing her old Persian cat’s death by taking it to the doctor earlier, fixing her relationship with her aunt, cancel her breaks up with Jongin-

By the last sentence in her mind, she’s instantly wakes up to the reality. Finally realizing her surrounding again, as she facepalming herself inside.

What the hell are you thinking about?!

She shakes her head, couldn’t believe her brain for crossing those such thing. Those unrepeatable accident. Unfixable. Yet she’s still couldn’t hold herself from doing it. Oh what an irony.

“TRAK!”

The sound of falling pen echoes in the Mr. President’s room. A seconds of daze passed around Jongin, then his fingers slowly bring his body to bend down a little bit to pick up the falling pen. He struggles a little bit –the reason why his eyebrows creased in a knot and teeth biting his lower lips –because the naughty pen which keeps rolling further from his shoe. After a little bit furthing his arm, his long masculine fingers finally snatch the Mont Blanc exclusive pen.

His mind wonders why the hell the pen fell from his grip, which was firm enough to not let it fall. Jongin puts it next to the stacked papers, as he looks to the white palms of his. It feels so damp, fills with a thin layers of sweats. Very slippery. And very unusual from its usual condition.

Why I feel a little bit strange? Am I nervous?

Those questions instantly popped up inside his head, because when his palms start to sweat, it’s a sign that he might be nervous. Or maybe something else. Which he still couldn’t figure out until this second. He lets out a small sigh, then takes his pen, and back focusing writing his well-known signatures on the suffocating papers.

But even before he finish his signature, his hand suddenly stops. Hesitant to continue. He feels something unsual in his his head, a foreign feelings, which keeps making him dazing off. Bothering him, as if having a short seconds of amnesia. A black spot of ink starts to pool on one spot, smearing the white sheet of paper. Jongin instantly flying off the pen from the paper, closed it. It’s not even leak actually, it’s just his fingers unknowingly giving too much pressure.

He wanders his eyes to the room, seeking for any answer. But nothing in his office could answer his anxiety.

Anxiety? Why am I anxious?

The furrow of his eyebrows getting more deeper. He asking a question to himself? So odd. He’s Kim Jongin. He’s a certain man. Never once in his life he feels unsure, uncertain, worried, like this. What on earth suddenly it changes? Is this a bad sign?

Few of names instantly pop up inside his head. Without hesitation, he calls his parents’ number.

“Hello, Mom? Are you alright?” His voice full of urge, surprising the other line.

“Of course I’m fine. What’s the matter?” A motherly voice replies him gently. Giving a rush of relieved feeling inside his heart.

“Nothing. How about dad? Is he alright?” No way Jongin would forget his father, the best father in the world.

“He’s okay. More or less. He caught a flu since two days ago. But he’s getting better.” His mom sending her daily report like usual to him. It’s their habit, calling and asking how about each other condition. Being separated 180 km from his town, sure make Jongin miss his parents a lot. They actually can live in Seoul with him, he can buy any kind of house that they want. But his father insisted to life out of town, wanting to spend his old ages peacefully since he retired being the president. And no one could against the rock headed Mr. Kim, including his son, daughter, and wife.

“Tell to him to make sure to keep healthy, or else I’ll drag him to live with me mom!” Jongin playfully says to her, but full of concern inside. His mom chuckles in amusement.

“Arasso arasso, take care of your health too eoh? Omma has to go. Byee.”

“Arasso, love you.” The line being disconnected.

He feels at ease at some point, but the bothering feelings inside keep remain. Then he dials his sister’s number.

“Yoboseyo? Jongin?” A low voice of man greets him instead. It must be her husband.

“Oh, Kris hyung? Is noona there?”

“Yep, be right back-“ Jongin then hears him calling his wife to come upstairs. Maybe she’s in the kitchen right now.

“Hey kiddo what’s up!” A cheerful feminine voice replacing the low hoarse voice from before.

“Err, nothing. Are you okay?” He asks, just to make sure. Even though her voice already clear that she’s alright and healthy.

“Never been better! Psst I’m gonna tell you something. But keep this secret for a while okay? I haven’t told anyone beside Kris. So lock your mouth okay kiddo?” She suddenly lower her voice a little bit. Makes Jongin confused, yet wondering at the same time. Her shrieks startles him in the next second.

“I’M PREGNANT! WOOOHOOOHOOO!!!” She cheers and laughing by herself. Jongin is stunned for three seconds. Then a smile appears on his face.

“Really?!!! That’s REALLY surprising!!” He replies. A happy grin plasters on his face, as the image of him being an uncle dancing in his head.

“It is, right!” They laugh happily, full of bliss. Even though they don’t see each other’s face, they just know, that both of them smiling and happy from the deep side of their heart. Truly happy. Their laugh gradually died down, replaced by their soft steady breath and serene atmosphere circling around them.

“I’m happy for you noona.” His gentle voice enters the woman from the other line. Make a smile blooming on her face.

“Thank you. Don’t forget to take care of yourself arasso?”

“Hey that should be my line!” His reply cracked both of them. Then another peaceful silence surrounds them once again.

“You should seek for a wife, Jongin.” She suddenly says. The concern and seriousness inside her words hold Jongin back to make another joke from it. He falls silent in instant. He doesn’t know what to reply. Because he knows, she knows, both of them know that he still couldn’t get over her. Soojung. No one knows about his heart better than his sister. His beloved sister. But the idea to open his heart again scares him. He tried, he always tried. But the scars that Soojung’s left behind keep thumping in agony everytime he tried. And in the end, he gradually stops. But his sister’s request forbid him to stop. And he couldn’t fight that back. He couldn’t make his sister upset. So he’s still trying. Even though it’s still giving no results since years ago. Two years to be exact.

Rebound brings you nowhere…

He hums in reply, just to get a sad sigh from her.

“I’ll call you later kay? Love you.”

“Bye, love you too.”

He sighs as a quite air surrounds him right after the other line being disconnected. A suffocating one. Jongin takes a deep breath, then dishevel his hair, his pitch black hair. Those uneasy feelings come again right he realizes his phone with his sister already disconnected, which is 5 seconds after that. He scrolls his contacts, various names and number show passed on his vision, but he goes straight to the group folder, which only included with the closest’s friends and family’s numbers.

세훈, 백현, 찬열, 경수-

Sehun? Nah it’s impossible. He called me this morning. Same goes Kyungsoo hyung. Yeol? I just met him yesterday, and he’s perfectly fine.

He scrolls and scrolls, just to get an zero result. His thumb stops at one certain familiar name, which has been a long time he hasn’t clicked it.

수정.(soojung).

He falls silent.

It can’t be her. She’s a very careful woman. Well even though she’s sometimes careless, but still. It can’t be her, right?

 Night comes engulfing the city called Seoul. A constant sound of tapping heels echo in the quite night. Soojung clicks her car keys, motioning to the Red Mini Cooper of her. Its automatically opened, as she enters the car in a swift movement, sitting in the driver’s seat. She sighs in relieved, finally resting her back to a comfortable fluffy cushion.

Today has been a long day for her, even though it is the last day of her exhibition, crowds of people still filled the place. Making Soojung happy yet tired at the same time.

The pain inside her head didn’t help at all, making her condition worser today, but she can manage though. She’s sure her headache related to her stomachache from this morning. And she cogitates to change her routine. She should eat breakfast starts tomorrow. Or else, a day like this will repeat once again.

Soojung starts the engine,  drives away from the desserted parking lot. Joining the quite night of Seoul with the roads and other cars.

She drives in a medium speed, like she always do. Handsfree on her left ear, gps, well prepared to accompany her tonight. The digital clock shows ’11.26p.m’. A quite late time for her driving time. But well, she can manage.

Soojung scrolls her galaxy S4, with occasionally still locked her gaze to the empty roads. Her thumb carelessly clicks a number in it. The focusing her mind to the pop music that playing on the radio. Ignoring the headache inside her brain. As she waits Jongdae to pick up.

What she doesn’t know, that she pressed the wrong number….

Like a flash of movement, suddenly, flashy lights, white lights, blinding her eyes from the front. Honks and screams follow along with it. Her screams. Sounds of crashing steel and air breaking and fill up the night, unable to hold itself.

And then it’s become quite. Black. Blood. Pain. Heat. Burns. Only those who fills her vision. Silent whimpers escapes her lips, as the blood on her temples keep streaming and bursting a red fresh blood. Her legs feel numb, unable to be moved. She glances to her legs, it’s trapped with the seat she was sitting on before. Shattered pieces of glass and broken windows spreading around her face, her hair, scraping dreadfully her bloody skins.

Soojung tries to maintain her consciousness, but that seems like a futile efforts for her right now. She hears murmurs and sirens gradually come closer to her hearing. But the familiar voice, which she remembers the most is only the sounds that audible for her right now. Which comes from the phone right next to cheek.

“Hello? Hello? Soojung??”

It’s him…

Soojung mumbles in her mind. Flash of memories and regrets entering her mind, suffocates her. Tears starts to dwell inside her eyes. Stung feeling from the bones inside her body keep pulsating in a steady pain. Nothing, nothing in this she wants the most than the pixie dust. But only, only the last word, the last name, which she let out a whispers is only him. His name-

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