“Hey yo, Scar Face, the Arena has been relocated, you up to do the honors of the first fight?”
“I can’t,” I grunted in response. I was starting to get used to being called Scar, Scar Face, Scarred Shadow by now. Oh well, at least I’m almost as popular as the Direct Descendant.
“Why not, getting coward, are we? Or don’t you want your pretty face to get more scars?” Himchan asked, making his friends laugh.
“I have to attend a dress rehearsal for my friend, Kwon Jiyong’s wedding,” Ianswered. “You do know Kwon Jiyong, right?”
“No , man,” he backed off, the laughter in his face was replaced with anxiety. “Of course, we forgot his wedding is coming.”
“Good,” I answered. “I’ll tell him you said hello.” I waved at them and left. These new ones are scraping on my nerves, to be honest. And since I’m being honest here, I didn’t really want to go to the dress rehearsal, like seriously, I’d rather be beaten up and lay in a pool of blood than watch Jiyong and Dara go all mushy-mushy. It’s not that I don’t do that with Sohee as well but the two of them are just too. . . extreme with their affection for each other.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for the both of them, especially I’ve witnessed everything they’ve went through and still, they ended up together. The thought makes me laugh sometimes. Jiyong, out of all the people in the world, was actually getting his happy ever after. No, let me correct that. He already got his happy ever after ever since that Dara moved in as his neighbor. Jiyong, who didn’t believe in true love and forever is actually getting married. Can you just imagine that?
I can’t help but wonder sometimes if I’ll have my own story to tell to my future kids, something to brag on. The greatest achievement I could probably have is my scar. At first, I felt bad about it. I couldn’t be with Youngbae in one room. But after some time, it made me realize that the scar on my face was a symbol of how I tried to save my friend from that stupid Sulli, that makes me a hero, right? Not just that, it now served as a memory of Youngbae and his wife Bom, another friend of mine. Come to think of it, out of the five of us, I’m the only one left who hasn’t married or who isn’t getting married yet. Well, there’s another one but I don’t really want to think of her. I’ve already killed whatever feelings I have for Chaerin and that should be it. And besides, I have Sohee to take care of.
“Finally, the best man is here.”
I rolled my eyes. I’ve been reminded over and over again that I’m the best man and Chaerin’s the maid of honor. Oh well, the irony of life is sweet isn’t it?
“Seungri, you’re a bit early today,” Dara beamed at me.
“Am I?” I asked. Dara’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. I remember having a crush on her before but well, nothing can beat Jiyong’s lingering stares on her before. I could never out best a direct descendant, can I? And besides, I was still in love with Chae - why am I thinking about her again?
“Yes, you are,” Dara answered, giggling.
“Well, you’re husband-to-be seemed to think otherwise.”
“Oh don’t mind him,” Dara said, waving a hand. “He’s having jitters, hahahahahahahaha!”
I raised a brow at Jiyong who just shrug in return. “You seem to be in a good mood today.”
“I am,” Dara beamed again.
I can see the expectant gleam in her eyes. I knew what she was trying to say. “And why is that?” I obliged.
“Jiyong and I had a bed wrestling yesterday,” she said with a wink.
I glanced at Jiyong again and I saw him covered his face with his palms and groaned. “Bed wrestling?” I questioned.
“Yep,” she answered with a smack of her lips. Then, her eyes widened. “Omo! You don’t know what a bed wrestling is?” she asked with her eyes as wide as saucer and her expression was just too animated that it made me feel like I’m the most pitiful pest in the world. What in the world is a bed wrestling, anyways?
“No, I don’t.”
“Pancaaaaaaaaake!” she whined. “Seungri does not know what bed wrestling is!”
“Dara, you –”
Dara ignored Jiyong and looked back at me. “Seriously, you don’t know what that is?!?” she exclaimed, she looked so scandalized that I have the urge to laugh.
“It’s better than , I’m telling you!”
Understanding then dawned on me. “Oh!” I mumbled as laughter started bubbling up inside me. I glanced at Jiyong again. He was staring at Dara with both annoyance and tenderness in his face. “How does that work?” I asked Dara.
“Well, it’s like –”
“Pancake,” Jiyong interrupted. “Things like that should only be discussed between us.”
Dara then straightened up. Instead of looking embarrassed, she looked quite smug and. . . superior, as if the knowledge of me being unaware of what abed wrestling is made her smarter than me. “I guess we really are a trendy couple aren’t we, pancake?”
Jiyong didn’t say anything but instead, wrapped his arms around her and buried her face at the crook of her neck. I can’t help but grimace. I turned around and left them. I took my phone out and typed in a message to Sohee. My message goes: the two are getting all mushy again. I wish you were here so I have someone I can cuddle up with.
Aww, let them be. They’ve been through so many things. . . I wish I’m there as well but you know my condition right now, she replied.
I understand. No worries, we’ll get through it as well.
I just sent the message when I saw Chae – no, CL, heading my way. She was smiling. “Hey,” she greeted. “You’re early right now.”
“And so I was told,” I answered curtly.
She sighed. “Seungri, can’t we be at least civil to each other?”
“I’m on my best behavior,” I told her.
She was silent for a moment. “No, you’re not,” she then quietly said. “Seungri, we grew up together. I know how –”
“Don’t even try saying you know me.”
“But I do.”
“No, you don’t,” I snapped. “Look CL, it’s not going to work so just cut the crap out of it.”
“Oh well, don’t say I didn’t try being civil to you.”
“I’ve never dreamed of speaking to you again after this wedding.”
“Which shows how immature you are,” she then said, her tone turning 360 degrees over. “I pity Sohee for having to keep up with you.”
I grabbed her arm, my blood pounding in my head. “What does that mean?”
“It meant what it’s supposed to mean,” she returned, pulling her arm from my grasp. “If you didn’t understand, try to get a dictionary.”
And with that, she walked out.