Chapter One;

 

There is something unsettling about coming back to the places we had left behind. It creates a swarm of feelings within us that most likely does not involve the good kind of emotions. And truthfully, I'm not feeling so good either.

The calm voice of the stewardess blaring through the speakers inform the passengers that we are about to land. Looking out of the window, I stare at the outline of Seoul that's slowly beginning to form beneath the white clouds. 

I suddenly feel a jolt of nervousness coursing through my body when I think about what I'm about to face. I had abandoned the life I had here three years ago, and for me to come back, is the most bravest decision I've ever made. It is sort of admitting that I'm not running away anymore. 

I keep telling myself that I can do this, that I will not cry anymore, that I will be strong enough to hold myself together. But other times I feel myself slipping away in my own thoughts; shrinking and cowering. 

Running away didn't solve anything, but I found what I was searching for. The space and time to heal myself. 

The bitter smell of roasted coffee in the airport greets me when I scurry among the other passengers that have just landed from London. My sling bag bounces against my side when I make my way towards the entrance arrival, feeling a little lightheaded from having to experience a one sitting eleven hour flight. As my eyes scan the sea of people at the waiting area, I realize I don't actually know who I'm searching for. My family knows I'm arriving today, but they didn't inform me if they are going to pick me up. 

I'm only about to contemplate on getting a taxi when a familiar figure catches my eye, waving at me. When I turn, I spot Yoseob in the crowd, with a big smile grazing his face. I almost don't recognize him with the dark brown hair and a much more stoic gait that seem to accompany the swing in his steps. He looks more matured, but he never loses his playful smile. 

"Welcome home, Buttercup." Yoseob pulls me in and embraces me in a tight hug that almost lifts me from the ground. I laugh for the first time since I've gotten here and return his embrace. The warmness of his presence eases the nervousness from my stomach. When he finally pulls back, Yoseob cups my face with his hands as his eyes inspect my facade. 

"You've gotten prettier. Wah, London is no joke." 

I frown at him, and covers his hands with mine to pull them away from my face. "You'll ruin my makeup." I sigh exaggerately. 

His eyes widen as a look of astonishment cross his features. "Since when did my baby sister wear makeup?" 

"You'll be surprised if I told you." 

Yoseob chuckles softly, flaunting his perfect arrangement of white teeth. He grabs my suitcase from my hand before wrapping his other hand around my shoulders and gives me a light squeeze. "I'm so glad you're back, Aerin-ah." 

"Me too." I lie. 

 

 

The cold morning air numbs my hand when I stick my hand out of the window. I enjoy the feeling of free falling, and this is the closest I can get. Being high up in an airplane is different, because you cannot feel the wind pushing through your skin and numbing your muscles. While I'm lost in my thoughts, Yoseob is telling me about his job as a high school music teacher. It takes me about a moment before I realize he's teaching in an all girls high school. 

"Wait, what?" 

Yoseob grins playfully when he sees my shocked expression. "Yep. You should've stop me, sis. But that was the only offer I could take." 

I give him my disapproval look. "Seriously?" 

"Don't worry, no one's going to steal your handsome oppa. You're still my number one girl." Yoseob tilts his head a bit and gives me his loopy grin. 

"Yah, that's not what I meant." I shake my head in amusement before I start to laugh myself. "I think it's kinda illegal to have you as a music teacher. They'll probably start drooling on their music sheets before you even start talking." 

"Been there, seen that." Yoseob winks. "So how was London? You've never called much." A hint of sadness is evident in his tone. 

I find myself lost for words. It's true. I never called my family; it was always them who tried to reach me first, especially my brother. When they do manage to talk to me, I would always hang up the phone too fast, or give them excuses that I have lots of assignments and paperworks to do. The truth is, it's painful to hear their voices. Because they remind me of him. In retrospect, everything reminds me of him. So I couldn't---I wasn't able to talk to my family. That's why it's so difficult for me to come home. But I know I can't run away forever.

"I'm sorry, I was....too busy with college." Strike two: another lie.

Yoseob gives me a side-glance before nodding comprehensively. "It's alright, Buttercup. I'm just glad you've come home. Mum and dad are ecstatic. I also called your friends, and we're gonna have a welcoming party for you tonight. It's suppose to be a surprise, but yeah, I know you hate surprises so just pretend we didn't have this conversation."

Of course I hate surprises, especially ones that involve parties. I've never been good with handling myself in events, and I remember how I'd never wanted a birthday party even though my parents were dying to throw it for me since I was five. But since they are going through all the trouble, and I owe them that much, I nod in agreement. 

"There was no conversation between us whatsoever."

We both share a look as I pretend to zip my mouth and lock it, and so does Yoseob, and we both exchange our invisible keys and simultaneously throw it out of the window.

 

 

When we arrive, mum and dad are already waiting at the front porch. Mum looks teary as she hugs me so tightly I become immobile. Dad simply watches, but there are also a hint of tears in his eyes. We eat a little breakfast that Mum had prepared earlier, before I finally excuse myself to go to my room and rest. 

I am expecting a blanket of dust to settle on almost everything, but my room is clean and organized. The bed is newly-made and the curtains are pulled to let in most of the light filtering from outside. It is spring now, but the weather is still a tad cold. I smile to myself and make a mental note to thank my mother later. 

I absent-mindedly trace my fingers on my study desk, before noticing an unfamiliar picture frame on my table that's lying upside down. I try to recall back if I left it there, but I don't remember leaving anything behind except for my books. Frowning, I pick it up and turn it in my hands. 

I immediately recognize the picture. I stand there, motionless, as my fingers start to tremble. 

It is a photograph of me and Baekhyun, smiling so widely against the wind that was blowing at our faces. I had my arms wrapped around his neck from behind while my chin rested on his shoulder. Baekhyun was holding the camera, and I remember how much his hand always shook badly that we had to take the picture numerous times before finally getting it right. 

It was the day that he told me he loved me. It was the first time I believed. 

The frame slips from my hands and crashes against the floor. I hear the glass crack, but I'm still standing there, staring at my hands. 

It isn't until Yoseob comes to check on me that I finally remember to regain myself. 

"Hey, I brought you some---what happened?" he gawks at the shards of glass littering the floor of my bedroom. I must've look like a maniac right now. I blink a few times before I manage to speak again. 

"I accidentally bumped into the table and it fell." I explain hastily and inwardly sigh in relief that I made up something quick enough. "D-did you...who put it here?" This time, I am unable to hide the tremor in my voice. After a pause, I turn around and face him. "Who put it here?" I reitenerate slowly. 

Yoseob looks confused when he shakes his head. "We never touch your things, Aerin. And besides, didn't you leave that here?" 

"I...didn't." I whisper under my breath, feeling the weight of hopelessness crashing upon me again. I close my eyes, and try to push back the surge of sadness that's slowly creeping up to my throat. 

"Aerin, is everything okay?" He grabs my shoulder and forces me to look at him. 

Yoseob doesn't know. My family doesn't know. Nobody knows except the two of us. 

"It's the jetlag," I try to assure him and give him my best smile I can fake at that moment. Strike three. 

If he knows that I'm lying, he doesn't comment on it any further. He helps me clean up the mess and reminds me that I should be ready by eight o'clock. I simply nod and try to look as excited as possible. Then I shove the picture in the pocket of my jeans and summon up the courage to throw it away later. 

When Yoseob told me he had invited my friends earlier, I didn't ask him who they were. 

I should've.

Because nothing had prepared me for this. 

 

***