6 years earlier [ January 2005 ]

MiYoung – 15 years old

Yonghwa – 16 years old

 

“Oppa! Next year, for my sixteenth birthday, I'll come back!” the cheery voice giggled a promise into the young boy's ear. “We'll celebrate!”

“MiYoung-ah, come. It's time to board.”

The girl pulled back from her friends ear to call back to her mother. “Yeh, umma!”

“Yah,” she said, turning back to the boy. “You better not become a player while I'm gone.” she warned playfully.

“Well I can't make any promises...” he teased, flipping his hair for an added effect. “If the girls love me then...the girls love me..”

MiYoung rolled her eyes at his foolishness. “Oh you reall think you're all that, don't you!”

The boy just flashed her a killer smile and raised his eyebrows.

“We are now boarding passangers in flight rows 1-6 and the emergancy exit rows.”

MiYoung furrowed her brow and looked out the large glass window towards her plane with distaste.

“You!” she whispered, once again in her friends ear. “Saranghae.” Then she pulled away and grabbed her suitcase with one hand and jacket with the other.

The boy sat wide eyed and stuttering.“W-what?! Yah! What do you mean by that?”

“Park MiYoung! Come now, we're boarding.”

With that she left her startled friend and ran over towards her mother and father at the gate, scanning the boarding passes and passports. She turned her head and gave him one last smile and a friendly wave before disapearing behind them and out the door.

“A-aniyo, MiYoung-ah don't go yet I-” The boy tried calling after her but she was already gone. He ran up to the big window and watched all the passangers boarding, searching for her but not succeding.

He could still feel her warm breath on this ear.

“..for my sixteenth birthday, I'll come back...saranghae..”

He allowed himself a faint smile.

 

--

 

1 year later [ January 2006 ]

MiYoung – 15 years old

Yonghwa – 16 years old

 

“Ah, this kid...never picking up his phone.” MiYoung mumbled, pressing the recall button and putting her cell phone back up to her ear. This time, however, it stopped ringing and she was met with buzzing blares of music and loud chatter.

“Yoboseyo?” a clear female voice chirped at the other end. MiYoung pulled back in surprise and gasped.

“Ah, do I have the wrong number? Is this Jung Yonghwa's phone?”

The girl on the other end giggle. “Of course.”

There was a strange silence only filled by the muffled dance music and voices coming through from wherever the other girl was.

“Can I help you with something...Mi-Young-less.than.three?” The girl reasoned from the Yonghwa's caller ID.

MiYoung couldn't help but blush that there was a “<3” after her name in his contacts. But who did this girl think she was? Let the boy pick up his own damn phone!

“Actually you can start by putting Yonghwa on...seeing as it is his phone.”

The girl laughed again, obviously very amused by MiYoung.

“Yah, who says he wants to talk to you? Huh? Youg should-” She was cut off by a familiar voice.

“Ha Neul is that my phone?” MiYoung could just make out the words being spoken in the background over the music.

The girl, Ha Neul, seemed to be leaning away from the phone and MiYoung had to strain and concentrate to pick up their conversation.

“Oppa!” she squealed serveral octaves higher than she had been speaking with MiYoung. “Oppa its just some girl. You don't really want to talk to here, right oppa?”

MiYoung made a gagging face at Ha Neul's overly sweet and cutesy tone. This girl was really something, and it was girls like her that MiYoung most defintiely did not miss about Korea. But it was boys...er...friends like Jung Yonghwa that made her want to move back.

“Ha Neul give it too me!”

“Aniyo!”

This was followed by far bit of russling and some shouting Mi Young couldnt quite make out before the person she had first intended on speaking too finall came on.

“Yobo. Seyo.” he said, unenthusiastically into the phone. MiYoung let out a sigh of relief, finally that Ha-whatever girl was gone.

“Jung Yonghwa-ssi! Its MiYoung and its about time you picked up. Do you know h-”

“MIYOUNG-AH!” he called through the phone. “Whereareyouuuu?! Ah itsbeenso long sincewe talked!”

She froze immediately upon hearing him speak directly.

“Oppa..” she said hesitantly. “Have you been drinking?”

“Ani – isjusta partyyy. Yahdont worry!” He slurred into the reciever.

MiYoung took a deep breath and prepared herself for talking with an “under the influence” Yonghwa. She had gained some experience with drunk people in her year living in America.

“Yonghwa oppa who was that girl?”

“Oooohh HaNeulssiii. Shesagirl.”

MiYoung rolled her eyes at his childishness. “Yeah I figured that much out for myself, thanks.”

“Ah soungrateful..” he accused. “Wahh~musichere issooo loud!” he screamed into the phone, causing her to pull in slightly away from here ear and laugh.

 

--

 

2 weeks later – MiYoungs birthday [January 24, 2006]

MiYoung – 16 years old

Yonghwa – 16 years old

 

“But wheres mom..?” MiYoung asked in a shaky voice. There was a bad feeling bubbling in her gut from her dad's pained expression in the doorway and the gasp from her aunt on the telephone nearby.

She looked around from face to face, that tug in her stomach only growing. Not to mention the dangerously icey roads that had a fresh layer of slush from the days horrid winter weather; things just weren't matching up right.

“Where're my mother?!” she asked desperately, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up.

Mr. Park only shook his head with a stone, expressionless face, and slow tears cascading down.

“Where is she?!” she cried sending her fork clattering onto the harwood floor with force. She now had tears of her own springing from her dark eyes as she began to cry.

From somewhere in the other room the aunt that was on the phone the television and tuned into the local D.C. news channel to for more information. MiYoung kept her tearing eyes on her motionless father but perked her ears to listen to the announcer. Maybe..her hunch was wrong. Maybe her dad was upset because there was no more of the wine Mrs Park was supposed to buy. Maybe, just maybe, everything was fine.

“BREAKING NEWS. Following the weeked rush and a slam of bad weather, the roads in the city have become slick and slippery. We are urging people not to be fooled by the slushy layer falling right now and to drive slowly, or not at all.”

Nothing. No bad news. Nothing.

“This just in, a reported five car pile up is being reported for the intersection infront of the Washington Mall, and maybe more cars in the recage. So far no one had been reported as surviving. Stay tuned for more on the story whenwe come back”

That's when she knew her hunch had been right. It wasn't the lack of wine that her father was so upset about.

“Park MiYoung-” he said in a cold monotone, but she wasn't interested in what he had to say.

“NO~!” she screamed, the tears starting up again. She ripped the “Sweet Sixteen” sign off the counter and tore it to pieces, sceaming and sobbing the whole time. On impulse she bounded for the door in a desperate attempted to see the truth for herself, but strong fatherly arms pulled her back and released her back in the house. Finally she dropped to her knees and let the tears fall quietly, like everyone else in the room.

Only one other thing crossed her mind in that moment. Someone she needed to call and talk to..cry to even. She snached her phone off the table and fumbled with the dial before shakily bringing it to her ear.

“Yah, who do you think you're calling.” Her father demanded with a harsh expression; one he rarely used, crossing the room and roughly grabbing the phone from her small hands.

“Appa no I need - ” she started but was cut off.

“There's no need to talk to that boy. We're in America now. Stop that.” he scolded the sixteen year old, pocketting the phone himself and glaring.

“Wha- No what do you mean he's my best friend!” she insisted, trying to get the device back from him. “Appa I'm visiting thay should know about-”

“I said stop!” he yelled. “No one is visiting anywhere.”

MiYoung didn't care that she was sixteen and having a breakdown, she had the right too. So she fled, sobs racking her body to the comfort of her mother's side of the bed, rapping herself in the sheets and burrying her face in the pillow.

Her mother was dead.

Her trip home was dead.

Her birthday was dead.

After that day, everything changed.

After that day, everyone changed.

 

--

 

5 years later [May 2011, present]

MiYoung - 21 years old

Younghwa - 21 years old

 

“Mi..Young..” he repeated, letting each sylabol roll off his tongue. “Hm. Names sounds familiar. Is it popular?”

“MiYoung? Who knows. Why...you know her?” the manager asked eagerly. The guitarist only stared into space, shaking his head slowly, and idly stummed ramndom chords, so the manager moved away from the topic.

“She'll be in to meet you all on...Tuesday. That gives you tonight and tomorrow to rest.” he told them swiftly before taking his leave.

Yonghwa continued to casually flick at the strings of his guitar, still deep in thought about the new lyricist. MiYoung. Actually, he had known why the name had sounded so familiar, it reminded him of his childhood best friend; Park MiYoung. Growing up as neighbors and being just one year apart, they had become very close at a young age. Infact he had shared his first kiss with Park MiYoung; though they both had later insisted it had been purely experimental and without any romantic inclenation.

Secretly, Yonghwa had hoped maybe he had been the one she wanted to have her first kiss with because she liked him...after all, that was why he kissed her. But being a manly man at the age of 16, he let his pride get the best of him and never told her how he felt. And it was just the next day that they had gone hand and hand to the airport; MiYoung and her parents were moving to the states, and Yonghwa's family went to see them off.

It was on that memory that his mind was occupied with while the other members rambled on about the new song writter. The memory of one word she had whispered to him before running off and leaving him forever. Saranghae.

“Hyung. Yah, hyu-hyung! HYUNG!” Jungshin shouted, throwing his guitar pick at the daydreaming leader.

He snapped out of his trance and looked around at the band members, all surrounding him with weirded out looks. “What?! I was thinking..” he said defensively, putting down his guitar and getting up to stretch.

“ahh..where you thinking about MiYoung noona?” Minhyuk asked with a grin.

Yonghwa looked confused. “MiYoung...noona? Is she old?” He wrinkled his noes at the thought. It wasn't that he had anything against older people; he thought a young lyricist would be better at keeping the bands songs modern and interesting.

The younger boy laughed. “Aniyo – honeslty hyung. Did you even listen to what manager hyung was saying?” he shook his head in disaproval. “she's a 90'liner. Our noona, you're dongsaeng.”

“...she was born in '90 too..” Yonghwa mumbled to himself, scratching his head and letting his mind trail back to the MiYoung used to know...how long had it been? Three..maybe four years since he last saw her?

“Who was hyung?”

Yonghwa looked up suddenly, forgetting he had said that outload, but quickly brushed it off. “It's nothing, don't worry.” he said with a smile. “I'm going out for a bit. We'll meet back up in the practive room tonight.” he informed the other members.

“Hyung, take this!” Jungshin said, tossing the leader a white hoodie. “Going alone and no guards...gonna want to stay unrecognized.” he elaborated when his hyung gave him a puzzled look.

 

--

 

“Passangers from flight 453 from the District of Columbia, United States, report to bagage claim 4B.”

“Neh noona, I'll take a taxi to the hotel...neh...NEH...okay whatever. I'm haning up now. Bye, noona!” MiYoung tossed her phone into her purse, happy to be rid of her cousin's nagging.

After a long wait for her bags and a tired taxi ride, she was back on the busy streets of Seoul, scouting the area for a cafe and finding one on the corner. It looked dark and deserted, but when a hooded young man with big sunglasses and a permenantly bowed head strode in, she decided to give it a try. It must have been open if he was going there.

But as he passed her she couldn't help but notice the only bit of exposed skin he had on the mild spring day; seemingly perfect, plumb lips with a nice arc and well proportioned. It was an odd thing to notice, but he appeared to be an odd person. So she shuffled after him, trailing her bags behind her, and entered the small coffee house.