01

I was fourteen years old when I realised that I might be in love with my best friend, Park Chanyeol. He was tall and awkwardly progressing through puberty. He had curly hair and a bad taste in fashion, but he was sweet and treated me like a princess.

So, I let myself fall in love with him. I was fourteen years old but I was mature for my age, I’d had to grow up quite quickly. Even though I didn’t exactly know what love was, I knew whatever it was I felt for Park Chanyeol was more than just platonic. 

He was my glue. He was cheerful and always looked on the bright side of any situation. When I lost my parents to plane crash at the tender age of 5, he was the first person to talk to me since the accident and he told me that I should smile, simply because he thought I’d look really pretty if I did.

—

Five year old me sat on steps of the entrance to my house. I had my little body curled up and my face buried in my hands as soft weeps escaped me. I heard the door open behind me and jerked up, messily wiping my tears away.

“What are you crying about now?” my aunt questioned with a roll of her eyes. Her hair was a mess, her skin was yellow and she reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. “What, are you gonna tell me Jae tried something on you again?” The mocking tone in her voice made me shake my head — a lie. I hated lying. Her third fiancé, Jae, was a nasty character. I was powerless to him, at only five years old, and he used that to his advantage. Or rather, he used that to take advantage of me.

“A-aniyo,” I whimpered, looking down at my feet. 

She snorted and shook her head, “God, I don’t even know why I put up with you. The money isn’t even worth it sometimes.” Yes, the government paid her money to take care of me. I was a burden, so I should be grateful to her for not being on the streets. I should stop complaining so much. “Get out of my sight, I feel sick looking at you.”

“Ne,” I bowed at ninety degrees before turning around. I felt a force on my back and tumbled down the steps, landing on my face. A cry escaped my lips and I weakly got to my knees and looked over my shoulder. 

My aunt smacked my eleven year old cousin, Daejun, over the head with a harsh hand. “Are you ing stupid? If the social services come here and see her bruised up, what do you think they’ll do to us? Huh?”

“Mianhe, eomma,” he muttered, crossing his arms. She tutted and shoved his face away from her. 

“I hate kids,” she grumbled whilst rubbing her temples. She shot Daejun a glare. “At least the girl brings me money. All you do is take, you worthless brat.” With that, she stormed back inside. Daejun glowered at me before following her in. I dusted my scraped knees and tapped my scratched cheek. They stung but not enough to call for medical attention.

I sighed and stood up, fixing my pink floral dress. I was glad to see that I hadn’t dirtied it in any way — it was a gift from my mother. It was getting too small for me but I missed her so much, I couldn’t bear to part with it. “Eomma, Appa…” I stared up at the sky, fighting tears back. “I miss you…”

From afar, I heard a truck coming. It was loud but came to a stop at the house next door.

“Where did you go…” I whimpered, wiping my tears away as they fell. At five years old, I was too aware of the concept of death. I wished I were dumber so that I wouldn’t understand what it truly meant to lose your parents. I wished I were dumber so that I didn’t understand that I was being abused or neglected — or both — by my family. “I want to hate you for leaving me…but I miss you too much.”

I sat back down on one of the steps and resumed crying into my palms. Minutes dragged on like hours and I felt myself grow sleepy, a result of my sobbing. I felt something tap my head and tiredly lifted it. A boy, older than me, with a tall, lean frame, curly hair and kind eyes stared down at me. He grinned broadly, his large ears poking out from his red and blue cap that displayed a picture of Tom & Jerry on the front. He had on green trousers and a brown sweater. None of the colours on him went well together but he was still cute in an understated way.

“Annyeonghaseyo!” he beamed, his voice louder and deeper than it should’ve been for a boy his age. He waved at me excitedly and I couldn’t help but lift my head up higher, slowly straightening my back up so I could look at him better. “My name is Park Chanyeol and I’m your new neighbour.” He bowed deeply and rapidly before springing back up. “Please take care of me!”

“A-annyeonghaseyo,” I replied, standing up and bowing back to him. “I’m Kim Nara, nice to meet you too.” To be honest, he was the first person that had spoken more than two sentences to me since I’d moved in with my aunt. The other children’s parents knew about her habits so they forbade their children from coming near me. Even in school, they requested that their children be sat away from me.

It hurt me, to say the least. So having this random boy introduce himself, with a smile on his face no less, was like a miracle.

“I’ll take care of you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I was looking down at my feet so he put his hand under my chin and lifted my head up. “Park Chanyeol. Aren’t you showing…too much skinship?” I didn’t know much about skinship other than what I’d seen on TV. All I knew was that it always took long for the main characters to touch each other at all — and that the girls always acted offended. Was that what I was supposed to do?

“What’s skinship between friends?” Chanyeol asked with a shrug of his shoulders and a grin. “How old are you, Nara-ya? Ah, can we speak informally by the way? I’m not very good at Korean yet.”

“Are you not from here?” I asked, then remembered he’d asked me a question. “A-ah, ne. We can speak informally.”

“Ani, I’m from here but I had a speech problem when I was smaller,” he told me. Then, to my surprise, he sat down on the step I was previously on, patting the empty space next to him. I gulped and took the space, keeping several inches between us. “How old are you, Nara-ya?”

“Five,” I told him.

His eyes bulged, “Mwo!? You’re only five!? You sound more mature.” He jutted his thumb towards himself. “I’m seven.” He grinned proudly. “That makes me your oppa. I’ll be a good oppa to you, Kim Nara.”

“I don’t have any friends,” I mumbled, staring back down at my feet. “I don’t know…if…I live with my aunt and not many people like her, so not many people like me.”

“You’re not your aunt, that makes zero sense!” he sniggered, shaking his head as if it were the silliest concept he'd ever heard. “Don’t worry, Kim Nara. I’m not an idiot, I’ll stick by you.”

“Why?” I asked him, genuinely confused. Why, out of every kid he could’ve spoken to on this street, did he choose me? Why, without knowing much of anything about me, did he decide I was worthy of being his friend?

“Just coz I want to,” he shrugged, as if that answered everything. He must’ve noticed the look on my face. “What, can’t we be friends just coz we feel like it? Doesn’t have to be a special reason.”

“It doesn’t?”

He shook his head, “Ani.” He grabbed my face and started squishing it. “So stop looking all weird, Kim Nara. You should smile more. Like me!” He flashed me a toothy grin that reached his eyes. “Smile, Kim Nara!”

“Aniya~” I whined, slapping his hands away. “What reason would I have to smile?” His grin dropped and his mouth hung open. He stared at me dumbly, blinking repeatedly.

“Wah…I’ve never met such a depressing five year old,” he muttered, scratching the back of his head. He then grabbed my face again and squished my lips together. “Yah, Kim Nara. I’m going to fix you.”

“I’m not broken, Park Chanyeol,” I lied. I hated lying.

“I’m going to make you smile every day until I die,” he vowed, his smile resurfacing. “Now, smile for me, Kim Nara. I bet you’d look really pretty if you just smiled.” The sincere look in his eyes and the brilliant smile on his face compelled me to return it. So, I allowed my twitching lips to curve upwards until they resembled even the ghost of a smile. “See! Pretty.”

“Park Chanyeol,” I mumbled, staring at him with wonder. “I…” I had no words. My heart was stuck in my throat. So, I just smiled wider. He smiled even wider. We smiled at each other as if our smiles were languages of their own that translated our inexplicable feelings. 

—

From then on, I was glued to his hip. I followed him everywhere, like a lost puppy. He didn’t seem to mind and eventually, we became the best of friends. He kept his promise, too, and made me smile every day. There wasn’t a moment of sadness when I was with Park Chanyeol, not even when I was crying on his shoulder. He was a bundle of joy that never ceased to brighten up my desolate sky. Over the course of multiple years, we grew inseparable. 

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