de·spond·ent

In low spirits from loss of hope or courage.

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September 13 (Thurday)

Kyung Mi didn’t know what to think; how to feel. Though it wasn’t like Min Jae was banned from ever speaking to Gongchan, the eighteen year old girl was feeling slightly upset and worried. Surely her best friend hadn’t been stolen away just in a mere month, right? Although Kyung Mi didn’t want to feel jealous or something like that, she felt like being some selfish person by saying that Min Jae need not speak to Gongchan. Her fingers that held the sleek cellphone froze in place after the initial drop that nearly happened, and she just surely couldn’t say anything.

“… Gongchan, can you hear me?” asked Min Jae earnestly from over the cellphone, allowing a pause afterwards so that he could input his reply. Then again, the said he wasn’t even present at this moment of time.

Mildly, as though she was treading on thin ice, Kyung Mi finally came up with a response.

“Um, sis,” she began. “It’s Kyung Mi here.” A genuine intonation of surprise was heard subsequently.

“Oh?” replied Min Jae over the phone, seemingly unfazed by this new information. “Well then, just tell Gongchan that I asked for him, alright?” A few more words were spoken and with a voice that was far too cheerful for the eighteen year old girl’s liking, her sister hung up. The bespectacled girl was only able to stare blankly for a few moments before reacting to anything at all. Kyung Mi sincerely didn’t want to act childishly or rashly, but she was rather disturbed. Min Jae, like what she had already concluded earlier, was too nice to her in general. The relationship she had with her older sister was never the most amiable, but today, it appeared as though they were regular buddies. Well, not like she minded that part but of course, something else that was worrying her immensely.

“Gongchan Shik…” she mused quietly, noting the random black pen that was tossed messily onto his revision pile. To be frank, Kyung Mi wished she could think something of her best friend but she really couldn’t. For the better or worse, nothing substantial was fleeting past her mind’s eye. The subtle click of the door then warned the girl that her best friend had returned. Wait, best friend? It’s not exactly guaranteed, now is it? And, what was truly meant by the usage of the word warned? Questions, they were rather unnecessary as it was indeed the male that was mentioned. Gongchan gave her a small smile, and she just couldn’t take it. Not when it was so unnerving and well, she felt stupidly charmed for no good reason.

“Min Jae called,” quietly said Kyung Mi finally, passing the cellphone over to him. “She said to tell you that she was asking for you.” With that, the bespectacled girl left her best friend in that library room. She was personally unable to stay back and question him reasonably as to why the contact was named ever so queerly. As if he had a reason to hide something.

She didn’t want to mistrust him. Not now. Not ever. Perhaps never, actually — no matter how foolish that actually was.

How could she? He was her best friend in spite of every possible circumstance. He had done so much, and she too little. It was incomparable; ridiculous if one had to be completely frank. Even so, the eighteen year old girl found her own heart harrowed with great unease swirling in the innermost depths. Friday morning arrived, and to her surprise, he wasn’t waiting in front of her housing compound.

“… Strange,” figured the bespectacled girl, whipping her cellphone out to text him. It wasn’t like a dire need for the boy in question to walk her to school, but she was more worried that he had overslept. After sending a quick text message, the female promptly went to school without her best friend. The word lonely taunted her. The girl supposed that it was probably how Min Jae felt every morning. In conjunction to that thought, Kyung Mi felt guilty for not thinking of that earlier when it concerned her sister.

“Maybe I should ask her to walk with us next time,” figured Kyung Mi oddly.

Upon arrival at the large school gates, the eighteen year old managed to spot someone familiar dashing into the place. The streak of black hair initially covered the male’s face before it swept aside naturally.

“Gongchan Shik!” exclaimed Kyung Mi upon recognition, waving at him. “Um, hi!” Having heard his name, the aforementioned male turned around reflexively and flashed a quick smile, mouthing her name before hurrying inside. His reaction was rather endearing to her, but she found herself unsettled once more. Kyung Mi looked at the school building’s gigantic clock with a bewildered look.

“But he’s not even late,” she mused inwardly, her feet pacing slowly into the school compound. “So what’s with the rush?” As the usual feeling of the cellphone was felt by her, the girl was reminded of the text message she sent earlier the same morning. Assuming that it would shed light to this aberrant mystery, she checked her cellphone once more to find it devoid of any new text message. A poor expression overtook her countenance afterwards.

Saturday mornings were usually spent leisurely, but it was not the case for Kyung Mi that day. It was a special day, and it wasn’t only hers to own. Packing her required belongings carefully, the tinted-spectacled girl embarked her journey to a specific college. Her thoughts were her faithful companion along the way there, helping her to invoke creative ideas that revolved around the theme of euphoria. Mumbling a few words of reassurance to herself, she readied herself to enter the college’s main hall that was outdoors. Now that took her by surprise, honestly. However, it was a sudden revelation that shocked her horribly. Gulping, the girl was silently grateful that she arrived thirty minutes earlier than the scholarship’s exam starting time.

“Gongchan Shik,” texted Kyung Mi fervently out of visible nervousness. “You remember about today right? The examination? It starts in half an hour’s time…” Crossing her fingers, Han Kyung Mi sent the message. However, it turned out that the said cellphone was not switched on.

Kyung Mi was in a state of mild panic after receiving that new information.

“What do I do…” she quietly whispered as she tried to stay calm. Her brain worked out that it was impossible to run to his place and back — it would consume too much time. She supposed that she could call his house phone, but then she realized that there was a slim chance that the call would make it due to telecommunication problems in their area lately. Still, shot in the dark or not, she had to try. She dialled the following number and waited anxiously for a positive answer. Oh, if only the eighteen year old girl had reminded her best friend about today. How Kyung Mi wished that she could turn back time for those precious seconds. Why, even the brief moments of interaction that took place yesterday would have been enough.

“Please pick up, please pick up,” reiterated Kyung Mi under her breath incessantly. The sharp crack in the communication line proved to be her enemy, and upon hearing that break, it infuriated her.

“Not today, please,” mumbled Kyung Mi with a surge of anger. It was an emotion directed to the telecommunication line, to Gongchan, and mostly to herself. Finally, ten minutes prior to the examination, the students intending to earn the scholarship had to prepare themselves by setting up the easel and such. Even so, nothing of great use came up when it pertained to her best friend. With an anxious heart, Han Kyung Mi began to organize her materials in order to be ready for the exam. Her paintbrushes, the rows of paints and even the canvas were readied. However, Gongchan Shik had yet to appear.

“Five minutes!” declared the invigilator, rapping against a wooden table. “Are you all ready?” It was a rhetoric question, and so hardly any of the participants responded. Nevertheless, the girl’s heart was silently crying with anguish.

“He’ll come on time,” reminded Kyung Mi to herself. “He will. He knows September 15.”

Two more minutes.

“Gongchan Shik will come,” she continued inwardly. “He’s my best friend.” Sixty seconds. Time was ticking mercilessly.

“Are you all ready?” continued the invigilator for the nth time. Other participants were already picturing their soon-to-be artwork whereas the odd few were rearranging their items.

“He won’t forget,” she whispered at last when the examination officially started. “I know that he won’t forget me.” Han Kyung Mi took up the firm lead pencil and made a few exemplary lines. She made a few intricate swirls and undefined dashes. The edges were intensified with the lead pencil and finally, she held the paintbrush with a slight quiver. The girl paused in front of the sketched canvas, holding the painting tool and the paints with a troubled demeanour.

“I don’t know if I can really do this…” she uttered to herself aloud.

“Do you need help?” asked a voice. Kyung Mi nearly dropped the materials because she almost mistook the invigilator for Gongchan. The man was concerned because it appeared as though Kyung Mi was at an impasse. She forced a smile at him before reassuring that she was completely alright. After he moved on, the girl tentatively dipped the paintbrush into a dark green and began painting the outlined canvas. Upon the first , the spectacled girl realized that she wasn’t using the hue she wanted. Hastily, she used another which ended up being a mistake as well. Han Kyung Mi wanted to break down into tears already. She was far too rattled for this. To her horror, her canvas proceeded to have a damp spot which smeared the paint after entertaining such a notion.

“I’m not actually crying, right…?” she echoed inwardly, noting the lack of liquid rolling down her cheeks. “So why…?”

Actually, it was simple. It started raining suddenly. No one had noticed the formation of dark clouds that took place so craftily, ruining the artwork of many, including Kyung Mi’s. It began with a drizzle, and so many people began saving their canvases before it got damaged beyond a quick repair. Her feet, they couldn’t remove themselves from the ground. Her mind was scolding her to get the canvas to safety; to a dry location. However, another part of her felt absolutely useless. As if everything was against her that day. Her eyes lifted to the spectating crowd, her heart hoping to find that one person. Her search had failed, and upon that failure, Han Kyung Mi finally broke down and cried. Her legs gave way and she ended up being the only one in that open-air hall which made her stand out like a sore thumb. People began asking if she was alright from afar but there was no response. Some had thought her to have collapsed. As several people with umbrellas began approaching her, the drenched girl began packing up her things to leave. The invigilator who witnessed the situation tried to reason with her.

“Wait!” the man pleaded. “It’s alright; I will definitely give you overtime for this! There will be no additional penalty.” Kyung Mi shook her head slowly, wiping her tear-stained eyes that were clouding her spectacles. With selected words, she bid farewell before breaking into a run. The eighteen year old girl felt watched by every single person there in that crowd that day and once, upon passing by an umbrella user, she was certain that someone touched her on the shoulder. She spun around once, and only once, and albeit almost losing her balance, she saw no one in particular. Finally, she left in the inclement weather with a heart b with perpetual sadness for the best friend that never arrived.