27: Water lilies

“So whose great idea was it to go Giverny?” Eunji asked out loud.

“Mine. Naeun said she liked Monet so why not? It’s a lovely day.” Myunsoo said tersely.

“It’s too early! And why do I have to tag along on your date?”

“Well since you’ve become a loner with the absence of a certain someone... you have devoted yourself into acting as Naeun’s bodyguard. There was no use inviting you, was there?” He answered back, dripping with sarcasm, as if Eunji’s patience wasn’t tested enough already that day.

“I hope you guys aren’t like this for the entire day. You’re like cats and dogs.”

“He’s the dog.” Eunji muttered under her breath, whilst they continued to glare at each other.

It was not particularly that busy at Gare St Lazare but the crowds surmised of office workers commuting from the outskirts of Paris and the ever lucid tourists.

“We’re going early because there will be less people. The gardens can get very crowded...” Myungsoo continued to babble on but Eunji had stopped in her tracks.

“Eunji, are you okay?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Naeun now realised what she was staring at. It was probably the most gorgeous roadblock on earth to Eunji. Though Naeun had to admit, though Lee Howon was an idiot, he was handsome. Even more so now with his hands shoved into his jeans and his hair tousled by the rush of trains, his stance stiffened when he saw Eunji. It made him look more like a godlike statue; a chiselled paradigm in the middle of the departure platform.

“This is gonna be a long day.” Naeun huffed.

She was not wrong.

It was the most awkward train ride in the history of awkward train rides, at least for the four friends.

For one, Eunji and Howon were trying to not kill each other with their glares and they were trying their best not to kill their friends either. And two, Naeun and Myungsoo were trying their best to not allow them to outright strangle each other though all they really wanted was to get along.

“I’m going to the dining car for some tea.”

“I’ll join you.” Eunji said quickly getting up and dragging Naeun away herself.

Once they were settled with a pot of chamomile tea and some Normandy butter cookies and madeleines’s  in a reclusive corner of the dining car, Eunji took a deep breath before speaking her thoughts out loud in one breath.

“I know what you and Myungsoo are doing and I think that you guys are insane and of course I still love Howon but I’m not ready to face him like this and besides shouldn’t you be focusing on yourselves? I feel like I’ve turned your date into some kind of couple’s therapy session and that isn’t fair! Nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”

“Howon got into an accident last night.” Naeun whispered.

“What?” The shock on her face was evident and full of concern, it was no surprise that her resolve had died so quickly.

“He was hung up over you and he got drunk and he took Myungsoo’s Ferrari-“

“He took Myungsoo’s Ferrari?!” Now she was really alarmed.

“You guys are both stubborn and crazy and so in love with each other that when you fight it’s like the cold war all over again and why oh why can’t you both just admit that you miss and love each other and that fights are natural? Eunji, you think I don’t notice, but I do. I’m offended that you think I wouldn’t. You think I’m the only one that leaves trails when she’s hurt. Come on, Eunji. I know you better than that.”

“I know... I’m scared, Naeun. He’s always been there for me. But what if he quits? What if he realises that I’m not the one he loves anymore?”

“Oh unnie... If he didn’t love you, he wouldn’t be here.”

“Dude, I thought this was supposed to be a bro trip!”

“A bro trip to visit Monet’s gardens? Seriously?”

“I didn’t think you would take it this far. You told her, pdidn’t you?”

“I told Naeun. She’s probably telling Eunji as we speak.”

“This is cruel man. Seeing her is like such exquisite torture.” Hoya groaned.

“Yes... Yes... you’re a masochist when it comes to Eunji. You love her so much I can barely stand it. I feel like i could get diabetes from all the sweetness.”

“Oh please... Like you and Naeun are subtle with your interactions.”

“Lee Howon, please don’t mess this up for me. You and Eunji can’t live without each other and it’s driving me and Naeun insane.”

“You’re still mad about what I did to your car.”

“It hasn’t even been 24 hours yet. Of course I’m mad!”

“I know you think that this trip can suddenly fix everything. But I’m more scared if I hurt her than be hurt by her.” Hoya’s face hardened and his words came out more emotional then he wanted to reveal.

“But don’t you think staying away from her will hurt you both? Will you really let both of your ego’s consume your feelings for each other?”

He opened his mouth but then closed it when he saw the two girls come into the car.

“No. This has nothing to do with our egos.”

Monet was probably the greatest colourist of his time. So much so that even today his use of colour and technique still amazed Naeun today. There was many a jewel in Monet’s art collection, but his masterpiece would always be his garden, the greatest landscaping endeavour. Giverny was a small town about a mile bus trip from Vernon. Surprisingly, they were the first to be admitted into Monet’s house, a charming work itself. Monet had a good eye, his house displayed everything in contrasting colours; from the blue tiles and shiny copper pots in the kitchen to the yellow dining room, and what Naeun loved best was the works of art on display. Many of his personal works were of his family and she could see the Japanese influence in his artwork.

The mise-en-scene was close to perfection.

Eunji was in the parlour where the room was bedecked with an oriental carpet and the cabinets all had the same shade of deep brown, almost burgundy wainscoting. She looking at a painting of Monet’s wife, sitting in the garden wearing a silk kimono, when a shadow crept behind her.

“Monet’s wife.”

She shivered; his voice had such an effect on her that hearing it once again after a long time was like recalling her long forgotten favourite song. It was painful to remember because of the memories associated with such a tune.

Lee Howon was the greatest symphony in her repertoire.

But she was a terrible composer.

“During her deathbed, he caught himself analyzing how the light was scattering on her face. He could not believe that he was too absorbed in work to actually live in the moment. To realise that his wife was dying. From that he produced the most beautiful death-bed portrait; it was vivid in colour and so full of light that you actually forget that the subject matter is about loss.”

“Will that be us one day? Tallying each other’s wrong doings on our deathbed?”

“Hoya...” She wanted to reach out to him, but his words were the sharpest of chords and Eunji knew, she could never handle music so powerful that it wavered her heart unwittingly. He was everything she was afraid to have. Because god only knew if she could actually handle Lee Howon’s brightness.

She was certainly not Monet.

They had stumbled to the garden with Eunji marvelling at the purple wisterias and red tulips, the nymphs hiding in unexpected alcoves and the bridge that was mirrored so beautifully in the water lily pond. Monet’s garden was a paradise in the middle of Normandy. She would never leave this place. The bees buzzed around happily, nectar from the abundance of blossoms. 

But this time it wasn’t all real, she realised. This was nothing without him. She was nothing without him.

And Hoya was busy marvelling at Eunji on the bridge.

He found it hard not to stare. It was always hard to not like Eunji. She was the moon in the dull of the night. Hoya had found himself lost at sea, pulled by tides, but he would always find her; like a sailor navigating the seas. He didn’t need anything else.

“Eunji...” He called out to her when she was an arms width but when he saw the glistening tears fall from the corners of her eyes, his pride crumbled before the eyes. The thought of him actually hurting her sickened him to death.

 Howon pulled her into her arms without a thought and she let herself to be swept away by the softest of words and the warmest of embraces.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured into her ears.

“This is all my fault.” She sobbed, clutching him for dear life, like she might die if he let her go.

“Of course it isn’t. Don’t be ridiculous. I love you and nothing can change that. Our fates are like two pieces of twine; together we are the strongest bond, a string unable to break.”

“I love you too... let’s not fight okay?”

“But my dear, there will be many more fights to come, and many more reconciliations. But in the end we will always come back together and I will always love you. I already have for so long.” Hoya smiled his heart pounding against his ribcage like a beast just set free.

“And I feel the same, of course. This is incredibly silly but... I look forward to our future fights.” Eunji laughed through her tears. He looked down on her like he had just been shot by cupid.

Maybe it was his punishment to fall in love with her every day.

If so, he would never atone for his sins.

Myungsoo could not decide if it was because of her or the opulent garden surrounding her that made his heart so blissfully elated. Surely, Monet was a genius, and he sure was a romantic if he possessed such creativity that it enlightened the hearts of everyone who set eyes on his muse. Maybe they were not that different after all. He was having the time of his life snapping away on his DSLR; when he noticed two figures, lovingly intertwined on the emerald Japanese bridge, the weeping willows just barely covering their heads.  Eunji clutched Hoya’s arms; he held her face in the cup of his hands and she kissed him back with all the hunger that had not been satiated for so long. The lovers were reflected on the water and Myungsoo could just make out the tears in her eyes and the relief that he wore.

“All’s well that ends well.” Naeun said in a sing-song voice.

“That was quick.”

“I guess soul mates really do naturally gravitate towards each other, in this case all they needed was a little push.”

“It seems like we’ll be guiding them together our whole lives. Like lighthouses to a port.” Myungsoo said with a sarcastic tone.

“It appears so.” Naeun laughed, the sound quickly bringing a smile to his face. Such a sound that could rival every song he had ever heard.

Myungsoo reached out to grab her hand but stopped midway and with his awkward hand midair he pulled back before Naeun could see.

Naeun did see.

She glanced at him and saw him move away from her hand.

So this was how it felt like.

A sense of anger bloomed through her heart, like the riot of flowers in Monet’s garden. She was neither delicate nor weak and hell, she wasn’t fragile. She wanted to love and be loved by Myungsoo in its fullest splendour. She wanted to pull at him blindingly, passionately.

She didn’t want to love him half-heartedly.

And she certainly didn’t want him to restrain himself because of her.

“Myungsoo.” She took his hand quickly before he drifted too far away. Paralysis gripped him when she tiptoed to press her petal-soft lips to his; he was really caught off guard. But he didn’t want to reject her when she had boldly kissed him for the first time. She had made the move first. She had never done that before.

 Before he could question her actions she had beat him to it.

“I don’t mean to push you away. I love your touch, I do. Sometimes I think it’s dangerous because I’ll start to melt against you. Myungsoo, I don’t want to see what I really am.”

“What are you?”

“I’m a mess.” She sighed sadly, her shoulder dropping and her hands fiddling with the buttons of his shirt.

“Love is messy.” He cupped her hands in his. Such tiny hands, but they brought to life everything they touched. Like the Midas of love.

“I’m complicated and my life is complicated and my past is just one huge bomb.” She insisted.

“Don’t worry, I’m not OCD, I’m fine with messy, because that’s you. And every facet of you; the passionate ballerina; the kind teacher; the best friend; the funniest girl I’ve ever met.”

“I am pretty amusing.” She affirmed cutely.

“The girl so scared of thunder and lightning; that lives for Tchaikovsky and food and art. That’s the girl who I want to know, to care for. Please don’t be afraid to open up to me. Even a bit. Because whoever that jerk was that dared to hurt you. I’m not him. I’m Kim Myungsoo.” He stared deep into her eyes, reaching for her.

“Kim Myungsoo, I like you too. I like how your dimples crease when you smile. I like your obsession with black. You opened my eyes to Paris; I’m starting to see it differently because of you. You think I don’t notice when you take secret pictures of me, I know.”

“I can’t help it.” He smiled sheepishly.

 “You are the lost child, the third son, the kind soul, but you are afraid of breaking me. Like everyone else is... Please don’t.” Naeun was now imploring him.

“Naeun.”

“I am not a child. I wouldn’t mind if you break my heart. It is in your hands to break.”

 Her words broke off into the calm breeze, carrying the scent of roses and the rich musk of history. He pressed their foreheads together, smiling mysteriously as an array of butterflies burst forth in the pit of his stomach; feelings of contentment and wild unbridled bliss.

“Never.”

a/n:

So this is pretty long... i hope it will satiate you guys for now coz i got exams next next week and u know the drill...

thanks for reading ! ^^