Between Me and You

June 2011

Until the day we meet again, I’ll hold onto that hope between us. Until then, I’ll become better and stronger.

Sungjong held the vibrating phone in his hand, unable to bring himself to take the call despite the name of the caller ID. No more second thoughts, Sungjong he thought before turning the phone off.

Hoya returned holding two cups of iced coffee, handing one to Sungjong and taking a sip from the other. Sitting down next to Sungjong, Hoya watched the people passing by, hurrying to catch their flights; some were leaving for a short vacation, some flying back home. At least, they all had someone to return to whereas the person beside him, the person he loved most at this moment, was going far away from him for an uncertain period of time.

“Do you have to go?”

It was a selfish of him to ask such a thing, knowing it was Sungjong’s dream, yet, deep inside, Hoya held the hope that Sungjong would stay, for him.

“I grew up here all my life. Everyone I treasure is here in Seoul. Of course, I don’t want to leave.” Sungjong sighed. “But if I continue this way, nothing will change. That’s why I have to leave so I’ll become a stronger person.”

“I won’t give up on you.” Hoya claimed, grabbing Sungjong’s shoulders.

Sungjong merely shook his head, gingerly taking his hands off his shoulders and holding them between their bodies. “You’ll find someone better than me.”

“I won’t!”

“You will.” Sungjong asserted. He brushed Hoya’s bangs away from his face, looking him in the eyes. “Thank you, Howon. I truly enjoyed our time together. I really did. And I hope you’ll treat your loved one with the kindness he or she deserves.”

Flight KA892, from Seoul to Paris. Flight KA892, from Seoul to Paris, will be boarding soon. Passengers please go to Gate 54 to prepare for boarding. I repeat-

Embracing for the last time, Sungjong and Hoya parted ways. Sungjong smiled brightly as he waved at Hoya. He waited until he descended the escalator when he was out of Hoya’s sight for his tears to fall.

“Sir, can’t you drive faster?” Myungsoo pleaded, anxiously grabbing the back of the driver’s seat.

“Impossible, young man. Can’t you see the traffic condition up front?” the driver stated.

 Myungsoo stuck his head out the window, looking left and right. Cars followed one after the other in a jam-packed and disorderly way. He could barely listen to the radio host due to the honking and yelling. He looked at his watch, 3:51pm, it read. From the way things were, he wasn’t going to make it.

“Let me off here.” Myungsoo dug out paper bills and coins from his pocket and handed them to the driver.

Not bothering to wait for the change, Myungsoo got off the car and started running. But his legs could only carry him so far and they began to tire though he was nowhere near the airport. Stopping to catch his breath, Myungsoo glanced at the time again. 4:13pm. He had to think of something to get there fast. Just at that moment, a pizza delivery man on a scooter vector stopped near him, grabbing his attention.

“Please let me borrow this. I’m in a hurry.” Myungsoo begged.

“You can’t. I have to return this to the store or they’ll kill me.” the man replied, starting up the engine.

Desperate, Myungsoo briefly apologized before he pushed the man off the scooter vector and rode off. He couldn’t believe he just stole from someone but desperate times called for desperate measures. He just hoped that he could make it in time.

Sungjong sat at the seats near the departure gate, frozen in place. He knew he had to leave soon but he couldn’t will his legs to move.

There’s nothing holding you back anymore so what are you still doing?

He already said his goodbyes with the exception of Myungsoo who he hadn’t told he was leaving Korea. There was no way Myungsoo would come so why was he still out here waiting like a fool, reluctant to leave. Grabbing his luggage, Sungjong got up and headed towards the gate. He looked back one last time just before the gate closed.

“Sungjong!”

For a second, Sungjong thought he was hearing things, Myungsoo’s voice specifically. But he heard it again, this time louder and clearer, calling his name. And there he was, pushing past the crowd, trying to get to where Sungjong was.

“M-Myungsoo? What are you doing here?” Sungjong gasped, unable to believe his eyes.

Myungsoo stalked towards him without a word and before Sungjong could protest, Myungsoo weaved his fingers through Sungjong’s hair, pushing the back of his head until their lips collided.

Sungjong’s eyes widened upon the contact. His hands balled into fists, pushing against Myungsoo’s chest but the dark-haired boy circled his arm around Sungjong’s waist, pulling the boy closer as if trying to mold their bodies together. Sungjong gradually relaxed in Myungsoo’s arms, returning Myungsoo’s kisses with the same vigor.

Breaking apart for air, their foreheads rested against each other’s as they breathed heavily.

“Don’t leave, Jongie. Stay.” Myungsoo whispered, lifting the boy’s chin up when Sungjong avoided his eyes.

“You know I have to go.” Sungjong said, tears welling up in his eyes. Why do you have to do this now?

“I know I messed up. I couldn’t figure out my own damn feelings for eighteen years and I’ve hurt you all this time.” Myungsoo admitted, mentally beating himself for his stupidity. “But I know now, Sungjong, that I love no other person as much as I love you. I always have.”

This was the moment Sungjong yearned for the most, yet, something held him back from accepting Myungsoo’s feelings. Sungjong was afraid that Myungsoo was confessing to him at the spur of the moment and the many what-ifs that continuously plagued his mind. Would he be pushed aside again?

“Myungsoo…I love you, I really do. But you can’t just expect me to say ‘yes’ after all this. I’m…I’m not ready.” Sungjong said, taking a step back.

“You don’t have to answer me now. Won’t you take some time to think about it though?” Myungsoo took the bracelet out of his pocket, securing it around Sungjong’s wrist. “I’ll wait for you to come back. I’ll wait no matter how long it takes.”

Sungjong initiated the kiss this time; it was more of a peck but sweet nonetheless. Caressing Myungsoo’s cheeks, Sungjong nodded, smiling, then disappeared behind the gate.

“You have to come back, Sungjong! Promise me!”

--

Hoya leaned against the railings, sighing. The roof was quiet, as always, but it seemed even quieter than before since Sungjong left. Having been held back a year, the only one that remained in this damned school was him; he was stuck at the crossroads in life, without friends and without goals.

Hoya lighted a cigarette, immediately finding relief upon inhaling the substance.

“Skipping class again, Lee Howon?”

Hoya turned his head briefly, staring uninterestedly at Mr Jang, before turning back, puffing out another breath of smoke.

“Students shouldn’t be smoking within the school premises, you know.” Mr Jang said, leaning against the doorway.

“As if I care.” Hoya muttered, expecting the teacher to walk away like the rest did. He was caught by surprise, however, when Mr Jang strided towards him and snatched the cigarette out of his hand. “Hey! Give that back!”

“Don’t wanna.” Mr Jang replied in a childish tone, placing the cigarette between his lips.

“What are you doing?!” Hoya exclaimed, unable to believe the fact that his homeroom teacher just stole his cigarette and was smoking in front of him.

“Students aren’t allowed to smoke at school but teachers are.” Mr Jang stated, unfazed by Hoya’s reaction.

“I can’t believe this.” Hoya proceeded to take out another cigarette when Mr Jang seized the whole box.

“I’m confiscating this.” Mr Jang smirked, shaking the box in his hand.

Hoya kicked the railing bars out of frustration; this teacher was clearly messing with him. Mr Jang puffed a few more times before crushing the cigarette with his foot. Stretching his arms above his head, he gave a loud yawn.

“I guess this is not such a bad place to chill. You come here often, huh?”

“None of your business.” Hoya mumbled.

“It is my business when you’re on the verge of repeating another year. Do you really want to still be in high school at the age of thirty?” Mr Jang asked, turning to face Hoya. “Sungjong told me to watch over you.”

At the mention of Sungjong’s name, Hoya snapped. He grabbed the young teacher by the collar, annoyed at a stranger who appeared not much older than him meddling into his business and talking as if they were on familiar terms.

“I am this close to punching the living daylights out of you. Don’t test me.” Hoya forced through gritted teeth.

“What? Because we want to help you? Because we actually care about you?” Mr Jang challenged, not even slightly intimidated by Hoya’s aggressive behaviour. “If you think you can take care of yourself then stop acting like a kid because that’s what you are doing right now.”

The truth hurt more than he had thought. Hoya was, in fact, trying not to think about the future because he, honestly, had no idea what he was capable of. He was a delinquant with poor grades and bad conduct; what can someone like him do?

Hoya cried out in frustration, shoving Mr Jang away, and slid defeatedly to the ground. It was the first time that the teacher saw Hoya’s vulnerable side and it inspired him to help the boy. Crouching before him, Mr Jang extended a hand for him to take.

“Instead of a student-teacher relationship, treat me as a friend, as simply Jang Dongwoo. How about that?” he said, flashing a toothy grin as Hoya slowly reached out to grab his hand.

--

The first eight months for Sungjong was hell. The language barrier made it difficult for him to understand his instructors and classmates, him appearing as a fool in front of everyone.

“What are you doing, boy? What is this?” the professor exclaimed, looking down coldly at Sungjong.

“I-It’s my homework. It’s what you asked for-“

“I’ll tell you what this is. This is trash. Absolute trash. And it deserves to go to the bin.” the professor cut in, tossing the piece of fabric into the trash bin before walking off.

Two girls across Sungjong snickered, not even bothering to hide their amusement.

“Poor kid.”

“Only the best survive in this school. He must’ve thought it would be a breeze.”

“He’ll be packing his bags after a week. You’ll see.”

“Quiet. He’ll hear us.”

“Who cares. He won’t understand us anyway.”

Sungjong did understand for he studied French diligently since he arrived in Paris though he needed time to adjust to their talking speed. All of a sudden, it felt like high school again where he was mistreated and laughed at. Before the tears could fall, Sungjong rushed out of the classroom, choosing to cry quietly in his room.

For the next two months, Sungjong studied hard, staying up consecutive nights to improve his designs and ask for feedback. He practiced his French by refusing to speak in English or Korean. And it was all worth it as he started to gain more and more confidence in himself.

“Look. He’s getting told off again.” One of the girls whispered to her friend.

The teacher stopped in front of Sungjong and picked up the long piece of lace embroidered with crystals.

“What do you have for me today?” The teacher asked.

“It’s a sample of the sleeze for the gown I’m working on, sir.” Sungjong spoke eloquently, his eyes shining brightly.

The teacher seemed to have noticed the change as he looked him up and down. The man before him was not the same as the nervous young boy who stuttered at every word. He placed the fabric back down and cleared his throat.

“Not bad.”

Sungjong bowed in appreciation, making sure to smirk at the two girls, and continued his work. He was going to make it to the top no matter how hard.

~ 4 years later ~

“Look over here. Nice. Stay in that position.” Myungsoo called, taking numerous shots of the tall and lean model standing in front of the screen. “That’s a wrap.”

He checked the pictures he had taken behind the monitor, ensuring they were up to his standards and ready to be used in the magazine. Stirring his coffee, Myungsoo flipped through the magazine he normally purchased, stopping at a particular page.

“I didn’t know you were that interested in fashion, Myungsoo.” his assistant observed, peeking at the article he was reading.

“It’s not the fashion I’m interested in but more like…the person.” Myungsoo replied, smacking his assistant behind the head when he caught him reading over his shoulder. “Get back to work, Minhwan.”

Lee Sungjong, the youngest designer to showcase his spectacular gowns at the Paris Fashion Show…