LEENA’S POV

Awkward.

Why am I in his car again?

Right, a walk down memory lane.

I don’t have a clue what that is, but my mind is too clouded with shame that I just don’t care to ask. So when he told me to wash up and get into his car, I did as instructed.

It seems the right thing to do, and safe; I should keep my mouth shut because less words guarantee less embarrassments, right?

Silence hanging in the atmosphere is making me restless, it’s dead silent in the car except for the low humming of the machine. Should I turn on the radio?

“About what you said just now,” he breaks the silence and I turn at his voice, noticing his hands around steering wheel are tightened. “We weren’t close. I don’t think we are close now either, but…it’s getting better, I guess.” He looks at me briefly, gives me a weak smile before turning his attention back to the road.

The wheel in my brain is operating in light speed to search for the right words to say. “Okay.” Of all the responses, this? Brilliant, brilliant Lee Nahyun.

“The first time we met was in the hospital. It’s pretty obvious that I failed to leave a good impression on her.”

I nod, despite he might not see it. I remember Eomma’s displeased look when she saw him in my hospital room. And her glare, a voice in my brain whispers. Yes, I remember that flaring glare that made him flinch and hang his head low as well.

At some point, however, it has changed; it’s all smiles and crescent eyes and compliments. I know my mom, all those gestures mean silent approval. Eomma even asked for his help to buy stuffs. “How did you amend that?”

He simply laughs, seems to relax a little at the question. “By sitting through her interrogation?” 

Now I’m curious. “Interrogation?”

Instead of giving me his answer, he pulls up along the curb and turns off the engine. “We’re here.”

I look out the window at my side and find a café, wedged between a bookstore and a fast food restaurant; its wall painted white and blue.

“I’m hungry, let’s get some breakfast.” He hops off the car and I follow on his heels, eyes studying the exterior of the café. I decide then, I like this place.

The waitress seems to know us as she leads us upstairs to the balcony seats once we walk through the entrance; not that I’m complaining, it’s the perfect spot for breakfast, more so when I’ve spent way too long time without direct contact with sunlight. 

I tell him I’ve had breakfast and just sitting would be as enjoyable but he insists that I wouldn’t want to miss the English breakfast they have, so I oblige and order one for myself, alongside with a cup of Earl Grey Tea.

I look around as soon as the waitress takes off with our orders, taking in the scenery and the hustle and bustle on the street. I raise my head at the sun’s direction with closed eyes, an upward curve graces my lips at the gentle touch of the sun rays along with a gentle breeze.

“You like it here?”

“Yeah,” I answer without a doubt, and a question spurts out, “Did we come here often?”

His eyes blow wide, sparkling with hope. “You remember this place?”

“No,” immediately I shake my head. “I don’t know why I ask that, sorry.”

His shoulders slump a little, so slightly that I wouldn’t notice if I haven’t been scrutinizing his reactions. But he manages a smile soon after. “You’re right. We used to come here, quite frequently I’ve to say, even before we knew each other. We both liked it here, it’s like an escape from our hectic schedules.”

I simply nod, not knowing what to say. Then he starts to laugh by himself, the laughter bubbles out of him so infectious that I start to laugh along despite not knowing what being the reason behind his sudden outburst.

“What are you laughing at?”

“The first time I met you here, you pretended like you didn’t know me.”

“Maybe that’s because I didn’t?” I offer the most possible answer comes to mind.

“Nah, I’m sure it’s because of our unpleasant first encounter.”

I quirk an eyebrow, waiting for his elaboration on said encounter, but he just giggles by himself, and I can’t take my eyes off his alluring dimples. I shake myself from the trance. “Hey, your expression tells me it’s far from unpleasant.”

“We met in a mall. I was wearing a mask, cap, all those disguises and you thought I was a stalker or a or something, and I mistook you as my fan and I…I robbed you of your pizza.”

How did pizza have a part in the story? Wait, is that even a point?

“I wish I could bring you to the mall, y’know, to re-enact the whole thing, but it’s probably not a good idea,” he sends me an apologetic smile, “they took photos of me arguing at the hospital, not that they could make much of a story out of it but…my agency told me to stay out of crowded places.”

Guilt settles in my chest and it expands with every words from him. “I’m sorry, it’s my dad and—”

He interrupts, “It’s okay, I never liked being in a crowd, anyway.” He shrugs as if it doesn’t bother him at all, but I know better; it’s your choice to stay away from crowds, it’s a whole different thing when you’re forbidden to go there.

The waitress brings over our dishes just in time to save the conversation from going downslopes.

Keeping myself busy by poking at baked beans and scrambled egg in my plate, I try to sound casual when I ask, “You said something about interrogation?”

“Oh, that.” He swallows the bite in his mouth. “Remember the day I went to your house?”

The day you saw my photo? Yes. “Yeah?”

“Your mom talked to me before she let me up.”

“Talked?” Something tells me it’s more than just “talked”.

He taps his fingers on the wooden table as he contemplates what to say. When he speaks, the shade of pink on his face makes me wonder is that something he’s abashed of, or it’s just the sun. “Like I said, I didn’t leave her a good impression, so it’s understandable when she wasn’t that—” he holds his breath to search for the word, “—amicable towards me back then.”

I can imagine Eomma glaring at him while he sat on the couch, cowering back to the edge, as if a mouse shrinking and shivering in front of a cat. “But you somehow changed her. How did you do that?”

“I…kind of told her everything? From the beginning to the end.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

I scoff. “That means my mom now knows more than I do? You told her everything about us but you said nothing to me.”

“I had to, she almost bit my head off. How was I supposed to tell you anything when she wouldn’t even let me see you?”

I open my mouth, ready to start firing off reasons he should have told me this concerned part instead of anyone else, but words die on my tongue when I look at how innocent this guy is. Okay, maybe his excuse is legitimate after all. Eomma can be frightening sometimes.

“Well, you passed her test. Congratulations, I think she likes you more than me now.” I don’t even try to hide the pout on my lips when I take a forkful of bacon into my mouth.

He laughs and takes a big bite of his smoked-salmon sandwich. We stay in comfortable silence, each savouring the delicacy of the food until he decides to torture me. “You really think I’ve a crush on Eomoni?”

I almost choke on my tea; I thought we’re over this. “What? Of course not, I’m not that silly.”

But he just raises an eyebrow and stares at me in amusement. There, the playful smirk, he puts it on again. I look anywhere but at him.

“Just so you know, it’s not necessary.” His voice is soft and soothing and most important, it makes me want to look at him. His expression has changed; his eyes are fixated on me so intently and the lopsided smile is gone; everything with him tells me whatever he’s going to say is not to be taken lightly.

“What—”

“They call me bullheaded, but when I lock my eyes on something or someone, I can’t see anything else.”

I don’t know if I’d grasped his message, if there’s any. What I do know is when I look him in the eyes, when he’s sitting across from me; his fingers still tapping out the same rhythm on the table; the sun from the far horizon shines behind him through the gaps between buildings, forming a faint halo around him, and that’s when I think I understand what he means by “can’t see anything else”.

It’s not the literal meaning. But you’d tune out everything else other than that particular person, like tuning out cacophony on the radio until what’s left is the symphony of your favourite song.

When the landscape starts to change, the high-rises reduce to the size of matchboxes and soon are replaced by mountains and forests, I realise we’re going out of town. “Where are we going?”

He gives me a lopsided smile instead of a verbal answer.

By the time the car comes to a halt, I’m dozing off and that near to fall asleep. Stretching my back, I unbuckle and follow him as he gets out and walks towards a boat tied up at the port. He’s talking to an ajussi and I seize the opportunity to take in the view before my eyes.

There are a couple of people walking on the beach right beside the port; some of them with their kids, those hand in hand are probably couples, and they look so happy I can see their laughing faces from this far. Maybe we can come back here again with Clarence.

My smile freezes. Did I just say “we”?

I turn to another side, keeping my sight away from the beach, flustered by my audacious idea. Then I spot few blocks of buildings behind a row of trees along the road. My left foot steps forward without myself knowing, there’s an urge rising within me to get closer, as if something from there is calling out for me.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, standing behind me. “Leena, we’re ready to go.”

Words bolt out of my mouth as I turn to face him, “I want ice-cream.” I don’t even bother asking where we’re going.

While he’s in the dilemma of deciding he should cry or laugh at my request that comes so unexpectedly, I point at the direction of those buildings. “There, there should be a mart.”

He’s hesitant. “But, the boat…”

I look over his shoulder and find an ajussi is looking back at us. We’re going on the boat?

That’s not of my concern right now. I tug at his sleeve and sway his arm left and right. “It’s not that far, we can walk.” I add when it doesn’t seem to convince him, “An ice-cream won’t take much time, we can come back in an hour, please?” I blink my eyes in earnestness at the last word, hoping the gesture would have the wonderful effect just like when those girls do that to their oppas in dramas.

He huff a helpless sigh, but his lips are curving upwards so I know I’ve won. I drag him behind me while jumping up and down excitedly to the destination.

A smile’s etched on his face as he looks on when I take a bite from the cone, closing my eyes in contentment as the ice cream melts away in my mouth. “Now I believe you’re 18.” 

I side-eye him before giving a tentative at my cone, chuckling at the change of shape my tongue has made at the cream.

“Hey, where are you going? The jetty is this way.”

I stop in my track and turn around, flashing my brightest smile. “We’ll go back in an hour, I promise. I just wanna walk around, I like this place.”

I’m being honest, that indeed is part of the reason for stalling, but another bigger part of it is the bad feeling the jetty gives me. I can’t, however, quite put my finger on why I want to stay away from it. Perhaps I’ve developed some kind of seasickness over the past ten years?

Minutes pass as we stare at each other, waiting for the other to give in. “Alright, you won. You should be grateful that I’ve this soft spot for kids.” He starts taking steps towards me, his hand not holding ice cream tucks into the side pocket of his jeans.

“I’m not a kid!” I retort, offended.

He drapes an arm over my shoulders as he falls into steps with me and my cheeks flush at the scent of his cologne. He’s so close, I can feel my arm touching his waist. As we walk down the street, my mind is not on exploring the town anymore, but on the close proximity we’re now sharing, and his arm on me, and his warmth radiating through his hoodie, everything is about him.

I’m back to reality only when he gives a good long at the cone in my hand. My cone. “Yah!” I move my hand out of his reach, brow creases in a frown.

“It’s melting, see, it’s all on your fingers. I’ve warned you like ten times.” He the ice-cream off his lips, childish grin on his face. “You wanted ice-cream, but you seemed to have trouble eating it, I was just taking matters into my own hand.”

Staring down at the cone in my hand, I wonder what I should do next. He has just put his tongue all over it and if I… that would be a kiss, wouldn’t it?

My eyes roam around before finally settle on him, then my line of sight falls on his cone, and a plan forms in my head. Not sophisticated enough to be called a plan, but it’s an efficient move.

Putting on the most innocent smile, I inch forward and his eyes narrow sceptically. “You’ve violated mine, it’s only fair if I violated yours.” With that, I pounce at him, grab his wrist and pull his cone towards me before I reach up and take a huge bite from it.

His eyes widen in surprise, but only for a moment. He wraps an arm around my neck, too loose to be a headlock, but enough to make my legs stop moving and my heart stop having hope to escape. I shove my hand on his face, pushing him away when he attempts to reach for my cone in another hand.

“Okay okay, let’s trade.” He pleads for truce with muffled voice, my hand pressed squarely on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at that. “For real? This is not a trick?”

“Not a trick.” He lifts his cone right before my mouth, a peace offering.

I remove my hand from his face after tasting another bite of his vanilla ice-cream, and raise my chocolate mint for him when I hear a voice behind us across the street.

“Agassi?”

I whip my head around, just to make sure it’s not me the voice is addressing.

“Do you know her?” he asks, eyes on the lady.

I shake my head. The lady standing across the street is just another stranger I’ve met in this small town; I’ve never seen her. But she’s crossing the street and walking towards us.

“It’s really you, I don’t have my glasses with me so I can’t be sure. I’ve been waiting for you to come back.” She approaches and offers a cheerful smile.

I can feel Seunghyun tense beside me.

“I’ve been here before?” I ask cautiously.

The smile freezes on her face.

I keep telling myself to “inhale, exhale” as we follow the lady into her homestay, up the stairs and stop in front of the door to the last room down the narrow corridor, but my breath hitches when she opens the door and drags a luggage bag from the far corner. “This was your room.” She gestures to the bag. “I’ve been keeping this after your accident, in case you come back and look for it.”

“It’s yours.” He confirms, his eyes are staring at it but they seem to have lost focus, as if his mind had wandered to somewhere far away.

Nobody has said a word since then, we’re too busy with our own thoughts. Sympathy to an amnesic girl and how pathetic it is to have ten years in life knocked out by a stupid car crash probably running in the lady’s mind. I didn’t realise Seunghyun has been holding hand with me until his grip tightens around my hand, as if reminding he’s here with unspoken words. He must have his eyes on me now, worried that I’d have another breakdown.

And me, I trail my fingers along the top of the luggage bag, eyes taking in everything in the room, but there isn’t much, really. A wooden closet shoved against the wall with worn flower patterned wallpaper, a desk beside the door, and that’s pretty much it. It’s not strange to find it has no bed, this kind of traditional homestay normally provide futons.

The lady excuses herself when the air grows too heavy, saying she’d be downstairs if we need anything. I don’t remember replying.

“You remember anything? This could be the last place you stayed at before…” he trails off and comes up behind me. I can feel his breaths on the top of my head, the fabric of his hoodie brushes against my arms. All his body languages tell me he is here, right here with me, I can reach him anytime and he’s there to catch me.

Closing my eyes, I try to imagine myself living in this room. To my surprise, images come up and this has never happened before, not even when I tried to recall living in my own house; he’s probably right, this could be the last space I’ve set foot in so the memories are still fresh.

As encouraging as getting glimpses of images is, I can’t be sure if those are pieces of my memory or the product of my imaginations. I can see myself sitting by the window, staring at the blue sky, sometimes starry night; but my face keeps changing, at first I look as if deep in remorseful thoughts, sometimes I could see traces of dried tears on my cheeks, but it starts to change, I don’t look as heartbroken as before, instead I look calm and the last thing I see is myself looking at the hand phone, a smile on my face, the curve of lips so small you would need to look hard to notice.

That’s when my head starts throbbing, needles pricking at the back of my head, and soon those needles become nails. I try to close my eyes and refocus, but the images have gone and what left is the jumble hammering of those damn nails.

“Leena, Leena,” I can hear him yell my name over and over, I can feel his hands on my arms and his chest on my back, but the pounding in my head makes words get stuck in my throat and my vision starts to become blurry.

“Can you hear me?”

When my vision comes back and the hammering subsides to the background, I find myself paralysed on the floor, clinging onto him in his arms. I nod, unable to form words with my clouded mind, and feel relief when the frown on his brow seems to relax a little.

“C’mon, let’s get you something.”

He helps me up, a hand on my waist all the way to the dining table downstairs until he settles me on a chair. The lady wordlessly comes forward with a cup of hot tea.

She takes a seat across from us, eyes darting amusedly between me and Seunghyun. For a second my heart almost stops beating. She could have made out who the guy beside me is. Why didn’t he put on a mask or something?

Seunghyun doesn’t ask about what happened back in the room, neither does the lady. I suppose they’re waiting for me to speak up. I squirm in my seat, I’m not ready to do that, yet.

“This pretty boy here is the guy who made you run all the way to this village, huh?” I look up at her at the sudden question and she shoots a glance at Seunghyun.

His pupils grow wide and a second later he hangs his head low, cheeks flushed in embarrassment before a low voice crawls out of his mouth, “I… I think…yeah I’m that jerk…”

A string of laughter rumbles out of the lady and both of us stare at her, puzzled.

“You don’t remember but I hope you gave him a hard time before you forgave this guy.”

“She forgave me?” Seunghyun leans forward, hands on the table balled up into fists, his face eager.

The laughter dies down momentarily as she her head and studies him, as if Seunghyun has just asked a dumb question, which from her expression, he probably did. Then she breaks into a smile. “Yeah. I still remember how she blushed when she went out to make a call that night. I guessed it’s for you so I a bit about she shouldn’t let you off the hook too easily.”

I wrap my palms around the cup on the table and stare at the light brown liquid, biting on my lower lip. This is a start, I think to myself. People keep telling me what had happened but what they can never tell is how I felt. Well, the lady can’t either, but the least she can do is provide a hint on what I could’ve felt.

It’s still a long way to go before the puzzle is complete, but some of the puzzle pieces are starting to fall into places, so that’s something. Maybe what I saw in my head just now is not all imaginations, maybe, I pray in my heart, maybe that’s what really happened to me.

As if mirroring what has crossed my mind, my lips make an upward curve. “I didn’t, he’d had a rough time taking care of me. My parents…they’d given him a hard time as well.” I snicker at the image of him sitting in the living room, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap, while Eomma howling at him.

He hasn’t raised his head since just now, and I find the growing shade of red on his cheeks too adorable, so I elbow him in his waist. “Didn’t they?”

He looks like he wants to bore a hole with his eyes and hide in there forever. The lady bursts out laughing. “I’m happy for you two, you look so cute together.” She pauses, as if an epiphany has just dawned on her and she scrutinises Seunghyun with eyes sharp as eagles’. “I believe I’ve seen you in TV. Are you with Daesung? I like Daesung. Oh yeah, you sing! And you dance too, don’t you?”

I stand up hurriedly, pulling him up in the process and run for the entrance. I muster the brightest smile when I turn back to the lady. “No, he’s too dumb to do all that. Have you seen him dance? He dances like a fool.” I bow, plaster another signature smile and yell from my shoulder while we flee from the homestay, “We’ve a boat to catch, gotta go, nice meeting you!”

I don’t know how far we’re from the homestay, but I don’t stop until I feel my heart is going to explode in my chest for pumping blood through my veins in such inconceivable speed. “Do you think she made you out?” I breathe out my concern through heavy panting, eyes still on the street behind us, willing my trembling legs to get ready for another run as soon as the figure of the lady shows up at the corner.

When I get no answer from him, I tear my eyes away from the street and regard him for the first time since we made our escape and find him staring at his hand. Our hands. Because I’m holding his. I gulp, startled by how bold the gesture suggests and how enthusiastic I must have looked like. Did I really just do that? Flustered, I withdraw my hand but fall into a deeper mortification as his hand curls tighter, trapping mine in his firm grip. And I could feel jolts of current shoot through the contact to my body.

His breath is steadied, it’s perplexing how he does that when I’m still panting like a dog, his warm hand holding mine isn’t helping at all. When his eyes finally meet mine, I can tell from his gaze that he’s not as calm as he appears to be; something is roaring in his eyes. But he manages a smile anyway, and start walking down the street, holding my hand.

I keep the pace so that I’m one step behind him, eyes glued on our hands, mesmerized by how well they seem to fit each other, and how good I feel to be held by him. Then my eyes trail along his hand to his broad back, sweats on his neck glistening under sunlight. I don’t have to look at his face to tell he’s smiling wide. It’s not the most romantic moment, it’s not even a romantic moment, but I wish I could prolong the walk to the jetty so we could stay longer in this shared moment, a moment that belongs to just us.

Seunghyun says I’ve the exact same expression on my face as I did when I came here for the first time, and that was about half a year ago. The only difference being the house is now his; he has bought it from his friend.

He sidles up behind me and I feel him tense for a moment before his arms reach forward, pausing few inches around my torso. I get his body language almost instantly: He’ll retreat if I show any sign of disapproval of his moves.

I keep my eyes at the horizon, pretending to be so fascinated by the perfect way the sky and the sea merge together, but my heart is racing inside my chest.

His arms settle loosely around my waist as he rests his head on my shoulder. A second later I hear a relieved sigh released from him and I suppress the urge to giggle. Such a high school teen.

I don’t know what this intimacy represents, nor do I want to put a name to our current relationship. Are we friends? Couple? Something vague in between? I gave up settling on one specific title long time ago; everything is in a muddled mess, anyway. What I do know is, it feels right; his hands around me, his tickling breath beside my ear, his chest heaving up and down steadily on my back. He feels right.

“It was your favourite spot, I’m glad it still is.” His arms close in just a little, maybe less than an inch.

I can feel his deep voice rumbles through his chest, sending goose bumps across my skin. I lay back against his chest, sighing. “The view is perfect.” 

“How did you know I dance like a fool?”

I frown, because I didn’t know. Those words just blurted out themselves.

“Did you watch those videos?” he prompts when I stay silent.

“What videos?”

“Of how I made a fool of myself whenever I danced. Internet is terrifying.”

I chuckle in his arms. “No, I didn’t watch them, but you’ve to show me later.”

“Then how did you know?”

I hesitate. “I just…did.” I can foresee where the situation is heading and I don’t want that, so I add seconds later to change the impending mood, “I think your face has something to do with that.”

“My face?”

“Yeah, your face screams klutz.” I drawl the last word before making an escape from his embrace and run to the couch across the living, grabbing a cushion as a makeshift shield from his attack.

“Hey, I don’t look like a klutz!”

This short trip may or may not help me with my memory, but it does provide an opportunity for us to get to know each other better; me to know a man who claims to be my boyfriend whom I used to recognize as a good friend to my cousin; him to know a younger and despite it’s much to my disfavour, the more immature me. To my defence, I did lose ten years and ten years can shape a human in unimaginable ways.

Seunghyun’s nice, almost perfect. Almost because he always treats me as if I’m still a kid. Okay, I’m much younger than him, more so since the ten years are removed forcefully from my memory, but he isn’t really as mature as his age demands him to be, not in the way he acts, anyway. Sometimes I’d think I’m the older between us.

He shows me around, telling what we had done in the house the last time we were here while he does. He’d stop and look at me every now and then, to search for hints of any memories coming back to me. I disappoint him, almost every time, except for once when he opens the door to a room and a strange feeling of familiarity washes over me.

He explains it’s our room. The look on my face must have frightened him because he flails his arms in front of his chest, waving, stammering about nothing had happened that day because we just slept. When I quirk an eyebrow at him, his stammering gets worse, saying he wouldn’t do anything without my consent.

“You’re cute,” I say to him, before I kiss him on the cheek.

That gives me a heart attack, he probably has one too, judging from his wide blown eyes and the pause in his breathing. I’m in no better shape.

Why the hell did you do that?

I’ve no idea! I just felt like it. He’s cute, isn’t he? 

I shake my head to stop the bickering of my inner voices. I’ve made a fool of myself, I don’t need them to make it worse.

When I’m still red as a tomato, he has gathered himself and motions me to join him on the bed. My eyes widen at his audacious request, what’s with the “wouldn’t do anything without my consent”?

So a peck on the cheek gives him my consent? Does he think so little of me?

He laughs, realising what’s been boiling in my obscene mind. “Relax, I just wanna talk. I can’t say I’m an honourable man but I’ve my integrity in my pocket, I think I can control myself around a kid. ”

Kid? The word feels sour on my tongue, more so than his whole integrity bull does. What’s he thinking? He’s an uncle going on a vacation with his niece?

“I’m not a kid,” I mumble under my breath, more to myself rather than to him. If I’m being honest, I don’t feel like 28 at all, that’s a number so far away from me but I don’t like being 18 either, not anymore.

I walk to the bed and sit beside him on the edge nevertheless, the last thing I want right now is to have two upset persons in the room, an upset me is already too much for me to deal with. His words are still lingering in the back of my head, how unpleasant it makes me feel. Kid? Really?

“I’d promised to tell you everything,” he starts, his voice low and cautious. I shift my seat on the bed to face him better, but he’s avoiding eye contact with me, it seems to take all the strength in him to force out the words. “I think it’s a good time to do it now. Of course, if you don’t feel okay with it, we can do it another time.”

My eyes lower to his hands on his thighs, he’s doing it again, fiddling with his fingers. I fight back the urge to about who being the kid now. He looks like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff and I wouldn’t want to be the one to push him over.

One of the most perplex circumstances for losing your memory, is that the people around you are always scrupulous about their words; the closer they were to you, the more agitated they get whenever your past is brought up, as if one wrong word and you’d go mental breakdown. Sometimes I wish I could scream, “I’m not made of glass!” so they could stop treating me like one.

But with him, I can’t bring myself to lash out on him. He just seems to be having a lot going on with himself, and that “a lot” includes me, I know. This conversation has to be done, for the sake of both of us. I need to know what had really taken place in those years and he needs to demount the boulder that has been crushing on him.

So I retreat to the head of the bed, my legs stretched out on the velvety bedsheet and grab a pillow and put it in my lap. He looks at me, baffled. I gives him a reassuring smile, patting the seat beside me, beckon him to come over. “Yeah, I think it’s a good time.”

A/N:

One more chapter before the final. I think it’s a good time too. ^^