I tried.

Requested by: iCere

Scenario: Model student, Lee Bi An, falls for the bad boy, Himchan. Her widowed mother refuses the relationship so he steps in.

The room feels hazy. I sit in the classroom, pencil in hand, book open and the teacher droning on. Sunlight spills softly from the window beside me, my arm as my hand refuses to move. For once in my life, the incomplete answers in my head do not bother me. It’s the ones that are in my heart that make me uneasy. The boy who stares out of the window, two seats ahead of me, with no care in the world, lives so simply and so freely. My pages are empty yet so full is my head with thoughts of him. I gaze at his side profile, the way the light draws the ups and downs of his face.  Despite this my heart aches, I know what day it is no matter how hard I try to ignore it. My feelings are murky, tainted and unclear.

“Lee Bi An.”

 If only he’d call my name maybe then I’ll feel better.

“Lee Bi An.”

He turns around and stares at me, a confused look on his face.

“Lee Bi An!” the teacher calls for the third time.

I flinch, my eyes widening. “Y-yes?” I stammer, looking to the front of the class where the impatient teacher waits.

He taps on the white board. “The answer to the equation please,” he hisses.

I fumble with my book. I drop my eraser and hesitate to pick it up. ‘I’ll pick it up afterwards,’ I tell myself. I flick through my book, murmuring under my breath in panic. The gridded pages are all empty, I haven’t written anything down. I look up and quickly read the question on the board.

“f(x) equals one third of ln x cubed plus three x, plus c,” I respond over the drumming in my ears.

The teacher lifts a brow and hums suspiciously before writing my answer underneath the question. “Next time don’t daydream about Mister Kim Himchan and pay attention in class,” he warns.

The class chuckles and I look back down at my exercise book in embarrassment.

“Okay class, dismissed,” says the teacher.

Everyone shuffles out of their seats, hastily stuffing their books and stationary so they can leave. I stay back to catch up on the notes on the board. I write them all down in careful handwriting, only looking up to check the next line.

The room swiftly begins to steady into silence as the last few students leave. I hear footsteps approach me and someone crouching down. I turn my head and see Himchan with his palm extended to me, an eraser in his hand.

“Oh,” I chirp once I finally realise it’s mine, “Thank you.” I slip it back into my pencil case and continue jotting notes.

“Always so polite,” he chuckles, “You’re still acting like this even though we’ve been dating for months now.”

I bite my bottom lip as I finish the last line. I can’t help it, no matter what I feel like he’s worlds away. Plus, I should keep my distance since we might not be together forever. Life is fickle. I pack up in silence, neatly sliding my books and stationary into my bag.

“Are you okay?” Himchan asks as he tilts his head, “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”

I get up and throw my bag over my shoulder. I hum, “It’s nothing.”

We walk towards the door. Himchan suddenly speeds up and leans against the doorframe, blocking the exit. I frown and ask him to move.

“Is this about us being ‘worlds apart’ again?” he teases, “You know I don’t care about what the other guys think or what anybody else thinks—”

I smile weakly and wave a hand. “Yes, I know.”

Himchan pouts and straightens up, he looks at me seriously with his knitted brows. “Is everything okay at home?”

I look up at him and sigh. I shrug and pull on a smile.

“Don’t tell me it’s your mum again?”

I laugh bitterly, “That’s not it. It’s okay, I can handle it.” I then swiftly squeeze pass him, I’m surprised and a bit disappointed he doesn’t stop me.

My footsteps are alone as I walk through the hallways and all the way back home.

“I’m home!” I call out as I enter the house. Mother pops out of the kitchen to greet me, she looks bitter but that doesn’t surprise me. It looks like she’s been cooking with her tears.

She rubs her eyes, explaining that she was chopping onions though I know very well that the recipe she’s making doesn’t require onions. She’s cooking dad’s favourite stew and since he didn’t like onions, she always left them out.  

“It’s your father’s death anniversary today,” she says as I drop my bag in the living and follow her back into the kitchen.

“I know,” I whisper as I give her a hug. When I pull away I put on the other apron, “I’ll help.”

“Mother,” I say, breaking the silence at the dining table.

She looks up, somehow expressing surprise and disinterest at the same time. She hums in response before taking another mouthful.

I take a deep breath. “Do you remember Himchan?” I ask hesitantly.

She stops eating and puts down her spoon. “The troublemaker?” she replies without looking up, “I heard he’s in a gang from the other mothers. You better not associate with people like him.”

I swallow the lump of anger in my throat. “He’s not a troublemaker,” I rebut, “He’s nice and sweet and caring and—”

“Enough!” Mother slams her hands on the table. She glares at me furiously, her breaths loudly ripping away the silence. She then takes a deep breath and eases back into her seat, she frowns and chews slowly. “It’s your father’s anniversary, we shouldn’t discuss this now.”

I immediately get up and leave.

I lie in bed staring at the ceiling. It’s almost eight. I’ve been lying here for two hours just thinking. My thoughts are filled with so many things, and it makes me feel guilty that not all of them are of my late dad.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur to the ceiling. Everything begins to blur as tears fill my eyes. It’s been three years since dad passed away and about three months since I’ve been dating Himchan, yet mother still hasn’t fully come in terms with either of them.

I jolt as I hear my phone ring with an incoming. I’m reluctant to check it but since it’s probably Himchan, I persuade myself his voice will make me feel better.

“Hello?” my voice cracks as I stifle a cry.

“Bi An?” says the voice over the phone.

Hearing him say my name is soothing. I sigh, feeling a tiny bit more at ease.  

“Are you okay?” He asks, “Tell me the truth this time,” he adds.

I press my lips together and give in. I sit up on my bed and tell him what’s wrong.

There’s a short pause, I hear the audio crackle as Himchan moves his phone to his other ear. “Would it be rude for me to come over then?” he asks, “Since it’s your dad’s—you know.”

A laugh escapes my lips, the school’s trouble maker worrying over manners. “That’s a first,” I giggle.

Himchan chuckles though he’s probably not sure why I said that. “You know,” he says with a sense of haziness, “I still get nervous even when I’m just talking to you on the phone.”

I hold my breath, my heart leaping over a beat. I laugh awkwardly because I’m not sure how else to react.

“Sometimes,” Himchan says in a tender tone like he’s next to me, whispering in my ear, “I wonder how come you are dating a guy like me. I mean, there are so many other guys and yet you picked me,” he chuckles, “I wonder why.”

I catch myself smiling, my white blankets becoming foamy clouds. “Why are you saying this?” I ask with a smile still plastered on my face.

“Mmh…” he hums, “might make you feel better,” he pauses and adds, “and I was hoping it would increase the chances of you letting me inside.”

“Inside?” I repeat in thought as I hug my pillow, “Didn’t I just tell you my deepest feelings?”

He laughs and I feel like I can hear it from outside my window. “Literally,” he explains, “I’m outside your house.”

I jolt out of bed and check my window, Himchan is standing by the door with his phone pressed against his ear, looking up at me. My jaw hits the floor and an adrenaline suddenly fills my veins. I quickly tidy my hair up and kick some mess under my bed and into the wardrobe before rushing downstairs to open the door.

“What’s the rush?” Mother asks, “And what’s that boy doing outside our house?”

I don’t reply as I go open the door. Mother follows after me, peeking over my shoulder as I greet Himchan.

He smiles, he holds a bouquet of flowers yet he gives me an apologetic look. “Sorry, these aren’t for you,” he says. He looks over my shoulder and extended the flowers to my mother, “My condolences.”

Mother looks taken aback, not by just the flowers but probably how well groomed the troublemaker looks. Himchan wears a light blue polo shirt tucked into his black suit pants, his hair neatly split and combed.

“I hope you don’t mind orchids,” he says with a bow as mother takes the flowers.

Mother shakes her head, unsure what to make of the situation. “Would you like to come in?”

To my surprise, Himchan shakes his head. “I just wanted to ask,” he smiles shyly, “how should I say this?” he coughs into his fist. “C-can I date your daughter?” he blurts nervously and instantly bends over ninety degrees, “I promise I will take care of her!”

The whites of mother’s eyes grow, her pupils flickering between Himchan and I. There’s a long silence. I hold my breath, pleading in my head. Mother sighs and pats his back softly. “I’ll leave her in your care.”

Himchan’s head snaps up in surprise, a grin spreading over his face as the news sinks in. Despite mother insisting he stay longer, he leaves saying he’ll stay longer next time since he felt rude to enter without prior notice.

As mother shut the door and admired her new flowers I grinned from the hallway.

“Troublemaker?” I say.

She rolls her eyes, “He seems a lot nicer than I expected,” she admits. She places the flowers down before opening her arms to embrace me. She holds onto me tightly, we sway for a moment in each other’s comfort. She kisses the top of my head. “Be good,” she says as we pull away, “and if your relationship gets in the way of your studies or—”

I laugh, “Yes mum! Don’t worry!”

She sighs and smiles warmly. “The good old days,” she says nostalgically as she picks up the orchids, “Your dad showed up on my parents’ doorstep too and guess what?”

“What?”

She smiles as she the flower’s petals, “He brought orchids with him.”

‘How did u know?’ I text Himchan later that night.

He replies almost instantly, ‘u told me about your dad before did u forget??’

‘Then y didnt u ask at school? …no I mean about the orchids?’

‘I didnt want to push u into telling me if u didnt want to… orchids?’

I stare at my phone quizzically. ‘Dad brought orchids when he first met mums parents.’

‘Lucky guess? Lol’

I laugh. True, even I didn’t know. Before I can reply I get another text.

‘So… tomorrow is Saturday… r u free? Want to go watch a movie?’

I smile at the screen and squeeze it, my heart fluttering, ‘sure.’

Author's Note: I found it quite hard to fit everything in a one shot so it feels a bit rushed... I tried ahahah ;;; I still hope you like it...

Word Count: 1 974

Time Finished: 12:36am