I couldn't help myself. Here's another (and super long) chapter! YEHET! 

02

One day, opposite from Chanyeol's house, another boy around our age moved in when I was 10 and Chanyeol was 12. His name was Byun Baekhyun and he was what you could depict as my biggest frenemy. Little did I know back then that he’d grow to become my second closest friend in the world.

—

Chanyeol and I sat on the roof over his porch. His bedroom had a window that took us right onto said roof, giving us the easiest escape and also a beautiful view of the stars at night. It was our special place. We spent as much time on this roof as we did in his bedroom.

“What’s a ten letter word for cryptic?” I asked Chanyeol as I stared at a word search on my lap. He had on a red snapback that was pulled down slightly to shield his eyes from the sun. He’d long ago outgrown his Tom & Jerry one but I kept it in my own wardrobe for keepsake. Chanyeol had as much of an obsession with hats as he did with guitars. He had about ten items of regular clothing in general (yes, in total!) yet about a hundred hats and dozens of guitars.

“What does cryptic mean?” he asked groggily, a sign that I’d woken him up from a light doze. I glanced at him and smiled at how adorable he looked with his messy, curly hair stuffed under that hat of his. His laces were untied so I shuffled closer to him and knotted them together, on the wrong shoes of course.

I smirked deviously, “It means having a hidden meaning…secretive.”

“Oh,” he replied simply. Then, he pushed himself up on his elbows and flicked his hat up so that his eyes were uncovered. “Mysterious.”

My jaw dropped then I flushed pink, “Oh, right.” Whereas I tried to make situations harder or more complex than they were, Chanyeol went for the simpler side of things. He liked to make life as easy as possible. That, and also as happy as possible. He wasn’t labelled the Happy Virus in the neighbourhood and at school for nothing. “Duh.”

“Pabo,” he chuckled, ruffling my hair. Then he looked down at his feet, “Yah! Kim Nara.” I sniggered and shuffled away from his grabbing hands. He grumbled incoherently as he started untying his mucked up laces. “Aigoo, this girl…doing this to her oppa…”

“Mian,” I smiled unapologetically. I sighed in satisfaction before glancing up at the sky with my arm over my forehead. “It’s really warm today. Can we get ice cream, oppa?”

“So it’s oppa when you want something, huh?” he scoffed and I batted my lashes at him. He rolled his eyes. “Geurum, ka-ja.”

“Ah, jinjja?” I gasped, jerking upright. “Komawo, oppa!” I pinched his cheeks before sliding back down to the edge of the roof. Chanyeol joined me and carefully slid off, holding on tightly with his hands. Then, he let go and landed on bent knees. I glanced down at him.

“Arasso, jump!” he shouted up. I did so without hesitation; I trusted Park Chanyeol with my life. He could ask me to jump off a cliff with the promise that there’d be a floaty at the bottom, and I’d do it without question. I landed right in Chanyeol’s arms, bridal-style, and he let out a grunt. “You’re not as light as you used to be.” He didn’t say it to be rude, in fact, it was a compliment. He was always worrying that my aunt didn’t feed me properly — which she didn’t — so for me to gain weight was music to his ears and a sight for sore eyes.

“Let’s get some ice cream!” I beamed, hopping out of his arms. He ruffled my hair playfully and we turned around to walk down the driveway. His father’s voice brought us to a halt.

“Chanyeol-ah!” Mr Park shouted and we turned around. I smiled at the man. “Oh, Nara-ya, I didn’t know you were here.” He then shook his head and chuckled. “Silly me, of course you’re here.”

“Annyeonghaseyo, ajussi,” I greeted, bowing at ninety degrees. I then waved zealously, my ponytail bouncing behind me. “I’m going to get ice cream with Chanyeol oppa. Is that okay?”

He flashed Chanyeol a cryptic look then smiled at me, nodding. “Of course.” He looked at Chanyeol again. “Don’t be too long. Remember you have a piano lesson later. A violin one after that.” I also looked at Chanyeol and saw his smile become more strenuous. 

“Ne, Abeoji,” he said with a plastic smile and hollow voice. He bowed then took my hand and started tugging me down the driveway. I stole glances at Mr Park over my shoulder, a curiosity forming over my head. Something had changed between them or maybe I’d just never noticed it before. Whatever it was, I wanted to know more of it.

“Oppa,” I said, squeezing his hand that fit so perfectly in mine. “What was that about?” We stopped walking and he turned to me, his usual toothy grin on his face.

“What was what about?” he asked, feigning cluelessness. But his smile looked so genuine, I started doubting if the exchange between him and his father hadn’t been nearly as awkward as I’d made it out to be in my head. Maybe I’d seen it wrong. “Come on, before the ice cream sells out.”

“Ice cream won’t just sell out, pabo,” I snorted though followed him across the street to where the ice cream truck was parked. It had arrived over ten minutes ago but since the line of kids never completely died down, the truck remained. 

“What do you want?” he asked me, though he already knew my answer. We reached the front and he smiled up at the owner. “Annyeonghaseyo, ajussi. Can I have a double cone with one scoop of Dulce de Leche and one of Butter Pecan? Then a single cone with condensed milk ice cream and chocolate sprinkles. Komawoyo!”

The man happily obliged and Chanyeol turned to me.

He looked at me for a long time then just smiled, rubbing my cheek affectionately with only one finger. “Hi.”

“Hi, back,” I laughed, looking at him in both confusion and warmth. “You okay?”

He nodded, “I’m great. You okay?”

I nodded back, “I’m great.” I paused, then grinned. “You okay?” He laughed and playfully nudged me. The man turned back around and handed us our ice cream. Chanyeol paid him and we waved him goodbye, promising to return tomorrow as we always did. If Chanyeol wasn’t so adamant on having perfect teeth by brushing frequently, we’d both have none left. “Mmmm…yummy.”

Chanyeol plunged his face into his ice cream and started devouring it. When he lifted his head, his face was covered in the creamy substance and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Oppa!” I giggled, pointing at his face. “You look like a rabid dog!”

He started shaking his head like one and making growling noises. I laughed harder, clutching my stomach. He barked at me and I continued to chortle at his silliness. Life was a circus around Park Chanyeol. “Is it gone?” I shook my head and continued to giggle. I took a napkin out of the pocket in my dress and started wiping his face clean. 

“Paboya,” I murmured affectionately. He grinned down at me and shrugged. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off when a ball bounced off his head. I gasped and snapped my head in the direction it came from. “Yah!”

A short boy with brown hair and small, pretty hands waved apologetically at us. He then moved his arm behind him and awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“Mianhe~” he said and I narrowed my eyes at him. Chanyeol merely blinked then broke out into his signature toothy grin, also rubbing the back of his head.

“It’s okay, accidents happen,” he told him, shrugging dismissively. The boy walked over to us and Chanyeol picked his ball up, handing it back to him. “I’m Park Chanyeol. This is my best friend, Kim Nara.” He put his arm over me and gently pushed me forward. He then pointed behind us. “We live in those houses over there!”

“Wah, daebak!” the boy gasped, his eyes lighting up. “I’m Byun Baekhyun, I just moved in the house opposite from that one.” He pointed at Chanyeol’s house, then his own. “It’s nice to meet you, please take care of me.” He bowed. “Sorry for hitting you with my ball.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Chanyeol reassured him. “And welcome to the neighbour hood. We’ll take good care of you, won’t we, Nara-ya?”

I nodded, deciding this Byun Baekhyun seemed polite. “Ne, we will.” I bowed. “Nice to meet you, Baekhyun-ssi.”

“Ah, how old are you guys?” Baekhyun asked us, his eyes shifting between us.

“I’m twelve,” Chanyeol answered, pointing his thumb at himself. Then he motioned to me, “Our Nara is ten years old.”

“We’re both her oppas then,” Baekhyun grinned, hooking his ball under one arm. “I’m eleven, turning twelve soon.” He then looked at me and threw his ball at me. I gasped and miraculously caught it with one arm, my ice cream cone in my other hand. “Maknae, carry my ball.”

Chanyeol chuckled, “Oh, you just made a mistake, Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun smirked and tilted his head at me, “Maeknae-ya. Won’t you carry my ball for me?”

Being the respectful child I was, I bit my tongue and nodded back. He laughed and nodded proudly, “Then, it’s settled. We’re all friends now. Chanyeol hyung, let’s go play.” He glanced at me. “Nara-ya, you can watch.”

“But—”

“Girls can’t play ball, so you can watch,” he affirmed. I glowered at him but he simply winked back. He walked over to Chanyeol and swung an arm around him, leading him down the street, back to his house. I crushed my ice cream cone in my hand and gritted my teeth together.

“Byun Baehyun, you just made enemies with the wrong girl,” I growled under my breath.

—

Chanyeol and Baekhyun immediately clicked, becoming close friends in no time at all. I remember feeling a little threatened by him in case he stole Chanyeol from me. However, Chanyeol never made me feel left out when the three of us were together — which was almost the full twenty four hours of a day.

I never really liked Baekhyun. In fact, I couldn’t tolerate his presence for more than two hours at a time. That was, until he turned fourteen and puberty did a number on him. He wasn’t any less sarcastic but he was much more attractive, making his insufferable attitude that much more bearable. 

Regardless of his faults, I had to admit that Baekhyun was a good friend. Like Chanyeol, I could cry on his shoulder whenever I missed my parents and the warmth of their hugs. I could confide in him when I got a crush on a boy (that wasn’t Chanyeol and didn’t measure up to my love for him) even if he did end up teasing me for it. I could run to him when my Aunt’s fifth husband or seventh husband soiled me with his dirty hands and even dirtier mouth.

—

He let out a shuddering breath that prickled my soft skin. He was warm and sweaty whereas I was cold and dry. I was empty, he’d taken my innocence from me. He pulled out of me and rolled over, a low chuckle emitting from him.

“God, I’m a sick bastard,” he said whilst shaking his head. I grabbed the covers and pulled them over myself, tears continuously flowing from my bloodshot eyes. My body ached everywhere, more so my face and arms since he’d punished me for resisting him. But what was I to do? Comply without so much as a word of defiance?

Yes, he was a sick bastard. But what was sicker was how I felt, how disgusting I felt. How ugly I felt…how unloved and used and hated. I hated myself more than I hated the feeling of his fingers on my skin, the feeling of his weapon within me, disarming my defences. He tore me up and left me for dead. I was dead inside, or at least that’s what it felt like.

I was nothing but a rag doll…and I blamed myself for it. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn that nightie to bed, it probably gave him the wrong impression. Maybe I should’ve been more polite and he wouldn't have felt the need to correct me. Maybe…maybe I shouldn’t have been born. Maybe then, my aunt’s fifth husband wouldn’t have me at the ripe age of thirteen.

He turned to me then but I couldn’t bear to look at the monster. I felt my stomach churn with disgust and fought back the urge to vomit. 

“Hey,” he said then touched my cheek. I recoiled from his touch. That was a mistake. He grabbed my hair and yanked me closer. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it, you little .” I let out a choked sob, screwing my eyes shut tightly. “Look at me.”

“N-no,” I whimpered, shaking my head.

“Look at me!” he barked.

“No!” I barked