Their first meeting was unintended.

 

Soojung was rushing through the sea of people as she accidentally pushed a few people aside. She did not bother to look back as she threw off words of apologies here and there. She heard some grunts and curses, but the girl brushed it off – she had other priorities. She then quickened her pace through the hallway, only to find her train packed. Soojung's bad habit comes back at her as she chewed on her lips and desparately tries to brainstorm of an excuse for her tardiness.

 

She then felt a tap in her shoulders which caused her to look up. He was a seemingly good lad, with rich chocolate eyes reminding her of coffee, and a messy mop of raven black hair. He had an amiable nature to him although it was their first time seeing each other. The boy suddenly had a smirk on his face – causing the lass to be slightly flustered and frightened of his intentions. He suddenly pushed Soojung forward, causing her to almost lose her balance. The girl was about to give him a piece of her mind when the train suddenly closed its gates, trapping Soojung inside.

 

The boy could see the surprise in her eyes, and gave her a cheeky smile. He waved his hands as the train started moving.

 

Soojung started despising strangers with cute smiles.

 

//

 

“1, 2, 3, and turn!”

 

The lass was breathing heavily as her salty sweat glistened underneath the bright lights. The squeaky sounds of shoes colliding with the studio floors were seemingly the rhythm rather than the blaring music of the speakers. Soojung was lost in the flow – this was her haven. Her moves were constricted to the instructor’s choreography, but she felt the most free than she had ever been. For a moment she forgets - forgets of her duties, her burdens, and her father’s wishes.

 

“Okay, let’s take 5!”

 

Soojung releases the breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Suddenly she was thankful she was sweating (she was afraid her tears might show). She takes a large swig of water as was parched from dehydration. She wipes her sweat with the back of her palm, not bothering to take her towel from the other side of the room. Suddenly, her vision only consisted of white. She felt the soft fabric rubbed to her forehead - wiping away her perspiration. Somehow it calmed her down - how pure everything seemed (even if it's just superficial). She slowly pulled away the cloth, trying to catch a glimpse of the culprit. She could not contain her gasp when she was met with the familiar face.

 

“It’s you again!” she remarks.

 

He lets out a cheeky grin, and does not forget to show his teeth. He nods his head.

 

The teacher does not seem to notice of his tardiness, so he smiles.

 

Gong Chanshik (Soojung hears him introducing himself again to a few students) had been an old student, she learns.  He had entered the academy before her, but took a break for some personal reasons. She eyes his moves then, he was not bad, but to be frank, maybe not as good as her. His moves were rather stiff, perhaps a little rusty from his hiatus. She could easily point out his small mistakes, not even his sheepish smiles could make up for it. Although, Soojung would rather die than admit that he had a certain appeal to him when he dances – his faults were rather endearing than tarnishing the whole routine.

 

Soojung observes more than she should, and the teacher ends up giving her an extra hour of practice.

 

//

 

Soojung curses under her breath, as she massages her cramped leg. The girl was too lazy to read the analog clock, but she knew it was going to strike midnight soon. Steadying her breaths, she slowly stood up and slung her canvas bag over her shoulders. She limped cautiously across the room, and makes sures to double check the studio before leaving. After making sure everything was clear, Soojung finally turned the lights off, and quickly skipped outside the front entrance (she did not like being in the dark for too long). The lass then traps the key to the studio between her teeth as she pulls the heavy entrance doors to a close. Finally locking the door, Soojung heaves a sigh before sliding the keys under the "Welcome" mat.

 

“Cliché,” a voice speaks out of the blue.

 

 Soojung gets a mini heart attack, and loses her balance. She felt someone tugging her to prevent her fall. Her head falls to a sturdy chest, his heartbeat audible to her ears. She suddenly remembers of her father’s embrace on a spring day, with cherry blossoms and lush emerald grasses playing in the background.

 

“One day,” he says, his eyes gleaming. “You’ll shine brighter than the sun, Soojung.”

 

Soojung chokes on her tears, and holds on tighter.

 

//

 

Chanshik hands her a cup of coffee, as he settles beside the tired girl. The lass croaks a small “thank you”, and takes a sip of her beverage. The lad stays silent (which Soojung was more than thankful for), and silently observes her. Feeling queasy under his gaze, she politely asks if something was wrong.

 

“You look prettier when you don’t cry.”

 

Soojung does not know whether to accept it as a compliment or as an insult, so she stays quiet. He suddenly talks of his desire to see stars. He complains of the charcoal, taintless sky, his desire to match out constellations – and of terms of stars that she had not come across her whole life. “Am I confusing you?” Soojung nods her head in a heartbeat; she thinks her brain cannot take more of these foreign terms spouting from his mouth.

 

“You’re too honest.”

 

“You’re too oblivious.”

 

“You’re too cranky.”

 

“You’re too chatty.”

 

He scoffs.

 

“You stare too much.”

 

Soojung could not hide the blush in her cheeks, as she stormed off, leaving a guffawing Chanshik behind.

 

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers, once his laughter subsides. Soojung turns back sharply, gazing at him snappishly. He walks before her, skipping rather lightheartedly. “My house is to the left.” Chanshik slyly makes a left turn, causing a giggle to erupt from the female.

 

Their trip to her house consisted of Chanshik’s assuming directions, and Soojung’s amending (and rather insulting) remarks.

 

//

 

Their second meeting was one that Soojung could consider rather “normal”. He was smiling too much, his laughs too honeyed as if overstuffed with too many sweets. She does not like sugary, nor does she like anything sweet. So she settles with her coffee black, while he chooses a more adventurous one – a caramel macchiato (in which he fails terribly to spell, causing Soojung to chortle, and the employee looking at her weirdly).

 

“Why order something you could barely pronounce?” she asks, as she takes a small sip of her beverage. His smile radiates, and Soojung's heart does weird flips (maybe she's cringing, or maybe she just likes his smiles a little too much). 

 

“I’m being human.”

 

She raises her eyebrow, not quite catching him.

 

“We have a tendency to choose fancy things, don’t we?”

 

She nods her head, trying to make sense of his words. “I’m just trying to impress, Soojung,” he then admits, his hands circling the cool beverage. “But, you failed,” she puts down her cup, her lips slightly curving upwards. “Miserably, at that.”

 

“We’re bound to make mistakes every once in a while, Soojung.”

 

But, I cannot afford to make mistakes, she screams in her mind. Once she does, it would be the end of her, the end to her freedom. She was Soojung, Jung Soojung, the daughter of the great surgeon of the nation – the one expected to claim over her father’s title. She was born to this – a refined image, a head held up high, respect from everyone who surrounds her. But she was not exactly sure if she was born for this - the public eye upon her, the scornful looks from other surgeons.

 

“Ignore them Soojung,” her father says, squeezing her hand.

 

“One day, you’d soar higher than the birds in the sky.”

 

Soojung sighs, playing with the spoon in her mug.

 

“Of course.”

 

//

 

Chanshik ends up discarding the beverage halfway through it, not getting how such an expensive beverage could taste so repulsive. “Well there goes my money,” he sighs, kicking the pebbles in the street. “And there goes your pride,” she adds, not minding the resentful glare he sent her. He scowls for while, before suddenly grabbing ahold of Soojung’s drink.

 

“Hey!”

 

He takes a mouthful of her drink, and his face contorts to a grimace. “It’s so bitter!” he complains, making comical faces. She snickers.

 

“Serves you right.”

 

“You could at least put a cube of sugar or something, it’s too bitter!” he complains. She rolls her eyes. “It’s my drink anyways.” Soojung drinks the now lukewarm beverage, letting the bitterness bite her senses alive. “Two sugars and skimmed milk,” he suddenly says.

 

“What?”

 

“If you’re buying that coffee again you should try it with that.”

 

His smile comes back as he ruffles her hair. Soojung lets out a huff, trying to fix the mess he made (for she did not know how to fix the mess of beats in her heart).

 

“I’m never buying expensive drinks again!” he announces, as if he was proclaiming allegiance to the flag. “I guess being too fancy has a cost,” he says. The lad then sits at a rail along the road. Soojung keeps quiet, silently agreeing to him.

 

A princess, she suddenly thinks.

 

Beautiful, stunning, out-of-reach, for displays only.

 

She internally scoffs.

 

But only for children’s play.

 

“Soojung?”

 

(She glances his way, and oh that sweet smile how she wishes it would just wash away.)

 

“Let’s get some canned coffee.”

 

//

 

She was the epitome of perfection, an ice princess (her friends liked to call her that way). She liked to think of herself as a piñata – only to be hit open to be a useless mess of papier-mâché.

 

(“Pretty, but cold,” she hears Sooyeon say to her.)

 

Soojung litters her can of Coke somewhere on the way home, and smirks.

 

“At least not only pretty,” she whispers to no one in particular.

 

//

 

Chanshik enjoys reading of fairytales, but he never really gets into the end of the story. He reads of doll-like girls with naïve mindsets and sickeningly sweet words, and of stunning men in cladded blue uniforms and white pants that are too tight, with a sword at the side of his belt. He only reaches until the sad separation of the princess and the prince, never making it to the happy ending.

 

“Why don’t you ever finish a story?” Soojung asks, one starless night.

 

He smiles as he sips on his canned beverage.

 

“I prefer being realistic.”

 

//

 

Soojung realizes one night that something was off from him. His breaths were hitched, and his face was no longer of sunshine and rainbows. It was of gloomy weathers and unknown monsters lurking under the bed. The playful smile on his face suddenly contorts to off gasping for air, as he hacked out more scarlet to the ground.

 

Red, red, red.

 

Red like how Soojung had dyed her hair a few months back, but even darker, even more resentful, even more hatred poured on it.

 

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t know how to – and tears were threatening to pour out of his (and her) eyes.

 

Soojung suddenly feels like puking, sick from the putrid smell, and of how thick and gush the blood was. Chanshik was like a waterfall; only he was full of rot instead of fresh. She was scared, scared of this thing, - no person, she used to know (or did she ever know?). She wants to run away, escape from him, to save her own self instead.

 

(But she doesn’t, she holds him in her embrace instead, whispering of the uncertain, sickeningly sweet lies of the future to the boy.

 

“Soojung,” he says, barely a whisper.

 

She holds his hand, as the ringing sound of sirens play in the background.

 

He smiles utmost bitterly, before caressing the side of her face.

 

“You never knew Chanshik, okay?”)

 

//

 

As Soojung faces the white wall, she suddenly realizes of how Chanshik was a splash of colors into her monochromatic life – a splash of exhilarating red, a splash of bright yellow, a splash of fresh blue, and a splash of refreshing green.

 

Yet now it seems he had smeared black unto the canvas, never to be salvaged again.

 

“You never knew Chanshik, okay?”

 

Soojung wants to punch him in the face, yet she feels hot tears pouring down her face instead.

 

//

 

“Father.”

 

The old man looks up to the young woman; she was just like him – confident, charismatic, and everything an upper noble class person would posses. The only difference was that she defies gravity, always going against the flow. Never knowing when to stay put like a loyal dog would. He first notices her eyes, they were tired he knows – but something about them was a fiery determination, and he was rather thrilled to find out.

 

“Yes, Soojung?”

 

“I –“ she was in a sudden loss of words, her confidence slowly faltering.

 

Her shoulders deflate, as if she had acknowledged defeat, much to the elder’s amusement.

 

“I’ll compel with your wishes.”

 

He smiles in delight, half-conceited, half-mocking. His eyes were of foxes, Soojung realizes, sharp and cunning – just as how hers were.

 

“But I have a condition.”

 

His smile doesn’t falter, and he sits straighter, fixing the hem of his collar.

 

“Anything, love.”

 

//

 

Soojung’s eyes were empty, as she started packing her bags. She hated the feeling – the feeling of loss and defeat, especially against her own father. Soojung loathed more the fact that they were related; so she is only left to hate herself for hating her own blood and flesh. Her lips were chapped she realized, as she had been biting on it too much. She rummages her purse, trying to find her purple (she does not know of the flavor, she only likes the color) chapstick.

 

She finds none, and she chuckles bitterly.

 

(“Soojung, your lips are so dry!” Sooyeon complains.

 

She pulls out a lip balm, and coats it over her sister’s lips; oh in such a girly manner that Soojung cringes with each brush on her lips.

 

“Here, you could have it.”

 

Sooyeon hands her the chapstick, and leaves her with a smile.

 

“Reapply if your lips get dry again. I’m going now!”

 

Soojung looks at it, purple.

 

She scoffs and throws it to the nearest trash bin, not minding that half a tube was still left.)

 

“It was never mine, anyways,” she convinces herself. She her lips again, only to have it more cracked than it originally have been.

 

//

 

Sooyeon was the one born for the public; Soojung realizes when she was seven. With a beautiful face and a charming smile at the age of 11, Sooyeon had already learned to capture the hearts of others, whether they were adults or minors.

 

(“Soojung come say hi!” their mother ushers her.

 

Soojung doesn’t move from behind her mother’s back, and grasps on to the hems of her skirt tighter. Sooyeon would step up and drag her sister from her shield.

 

“She’s just shy,” Sooyeon would come up with an excuse.

 

Soojung faces the boy in front of her, and sees a spark in his eyes.

 

“Hello, I’m Donghae.”

 

Soojung holds her sister’s hand tighter as she does not like strangers.

 

“Sooyeon,” she introduces herself, her eyes reflecting the sparkle of the male.

 

“And this is Soojung.”

 

And Soojung knows that Sooyeon’s completely smitten.)

 

//

 

It was raining.

 

Soojung reaches out her frail hands, and felt the cold liquid slipping through her slender fingers. She smiles a little. It seems as if the clouds were actually empathizing with her. She shakes off the childish thought, not believing she was going to be a believer of those cliché fairytales Chanshik had warned her off. She opens her charcoal umbrella and walks with utmost care. Finally reaching the tomb, she places down fresh white roses in front of the slate of rock. She traces the writings of the tomb, shivering slightly from the icy writings.

 

“You’ve been cold haven’t you? I’m sorry.”

 

She places a chaste kiss on to the rock; not minding her hair being showered by the rain. She then quickly sprints back to her vehicle before the rain could wash away her tears.

 

Sooyeon never aged at 20 years old, and Donghae would remain 23 (from drunk driving Soojung hears the police says).

 

//

 

“Soojung?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“There was no Chanshik.”

 

“Oh, I forgot to give the full details, his full name was Gong Chanshik-“

 

“Soojung, no one has been admitted in the last two days.”

 

Soojung’s entire being crushed in a matter of seconds.

 

//

 

The air was light and breezy today. She takes in a waft of a little pollution, little cigarette smoke, and more of oxygen from her surroundings. Soojung was usually apathetic to her surroundings, but years of being confined in medical school made her more appreciative (or so she thinks).

 

It’s been five years since she had last encountered Chanshik, and she wonders why she never felt so bitter over the incident. A part of her died during that time, but she’s still above waters (perhaps the hope in her heart never really died, she realized). She cautiously sipped on her black coffee.

 

Two sugars and skimmed milk.

 

It took some time to get used to, but Soojung opt for it for the last half-decade. A sudden strong wind blew, and a few papers scurried before her eyes. The young man frantically chased after the papers, to which Soojung chuckled. The lass could hear him cursing himself for being careless and chasing after more papers that the wind still carried onto.

 

She saw a paper flying in her direction, and she flails her hand up in the air to catch the paper within her grasp. The lad then runs to her direction, bending down to catch his breath. He wipes off his sweat, and faces Soojung with a bright, tired smile.

 

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver Miss – “ He raises his eyebrows, as if asking for her permission to know her name. The lass smiles slightly.

 

“Soojung, Jung Soojung,” she says.

 

The lad smiles charmingly, and extends his hand.

 

“Jongin, Kim Jongin.”

 

Soojung could have sworn she heard a quiet goodbye in the side of her ears and felt a chaste kiss on her cheeks, and she knows Chanshik’s gone for good.

 

Fin.

 

What is this, anyhow thank you for reading this humble story of mine! Have a blessed day ^^

Love always, sunggyussi