Naeun

A crisis becomes a chance, scars become armor. - HA:TFELT ft. Hyerim, "Iron Girl"

I contemplated not leaving my bed for a long time. I hadn’t slept at all the entire night. I watched quietly as Seeun got ready for school and left without addressing me. I knew she had heard me trying to mask my sobs during the night. Even while emotionally distraught, I was still observant. I heard the creak in her bed shift continuously, something I never heard on the nights where I would finish my work with little noise made. I didn’t know if she was trying to find the courage to share an uncharacteristic sisterly moment with me and come comfort me, or if she was trying to make her annoyance public. But I saw the glances she shot me through my thin sheets when she was getting ready; they were looks of pity, and I knew she wanted to say something. I’m glad she didn’t. It saved me a lot of shame and a lot of explaining. I even practiced my acting skills when I acted like I was too sleepy to wake up, both through my mother’s yelling, and my father’s concern. 

When everyone had finally gone, I watched the minutes change on my digital clock. Soon, it was the hours. It was amazing how I could be still for such a long time, thinking of nothing and watching only the time pass. When I finally averted my eyes to something else, they fell upon the picture of my sister, looking back at me. 

The portrait, on any other day, was standard. She had always been full of life, even in what she had considered to be a poorly taken photograph. Sometimes, when I stayed up until dawn working, I swore she seemed sad. Today, however, I was positive her eyes held disappointment. 

I swore she was looking through me, telling me “you’re better than this.” 

You’re better than this. 

I was better than this. 

Almost instantaneously, I picked my pounding head up. A few minutes ago, I would’ve taken it as an excuse to lay down again, but now, it was nothing aspirin couldn’t fix. My body felt weak, probably from the lack of sleep and the skipped meal. I would’ve stayed home to recuperate, but it was nothing a cup of coffee on my route couldn’t fix. I brushed my disheveled hair, smoothing it out with more care than I ever had. I even borrowed some of Seeun’s concealer and foundation, to cover the dark circles. 

It wasn’t that I was ashamed of them. It wasn’t that I didn’t want people to know about them. I could very well feel the same had I not covered them up, but I did because I was better than them. I didn’t need to receive pity of strangers, so I didn’t give them anything to pity. 

I was better than pity. I was better than staying home after a personal blunder. 

I was ready to resume my duties. Nothing had changed that. Only now, I was stronger. I was more motivated. I was no longer distracted. 

It seemed like this time again, the administration deemed it unreasonable to ask me any questions regarding my truancy. At least I showed up, they probably figured. I arrived in time for lunch. I held my head high as I walked into the cafeteria. When I was learning to control my insecurities for the sake of a position of power in the student government, I had trained myself to act like I had confidence that I didn’t have. I had taught myself that whenever I entered a room, I needed to pick a spot on the opposite wall and never peel my eyes away from it until I knew I needed to make a turn, or to sit down somewhere. This made it seem like I had more of a purpose, like I wasn’t even paying attention to any of the looks I knew I was getting. Over the years, this philosophy had gone completely over my head, since even the time I spent walking was spent planning an event, or reviewing a proposal. I brought that information out again, as I tried to make it clear to everyone that I was better. I doubted that anyone knew what I was better than, but sometimes, you could just tell when someone made a significant mental change by the change in their attitude. I hoped this would get across. 

It was harder than I anticipated, upon entering a room full of students. It was even harder when I realized that the room was unusually quiet. Maybe everyone did know. Maybe while I was gone, it was all that everyone had talked about. There very well could have been bets placed on whether or not I transferred schools this morning. Maybe now, everyone was hushed because they were expecting me to have more public humiliation. My eyes were itching to look somewhere other than the poster I had picked to look at, but I didn’t. I pushed the urges past me, because I was better than any of those situations. I finally navigated my way towards the table Namjoo, Eunji and I usually occupied. I sat down, and they looked surprised to see me. 

“You’re late,” Namjoo commented, her brows raised. I noticed that they were freshly threaded, and after looking over at Eunji’s own neat pair, I concluded that it was something they’d done last night, together. I would’ve been slightly hurt by it any other day, but I only smiled. Maybe I could join them next time, now that I was no longer convinced some guy I had just met knew me better than they did. 

“But, I’m here,” I answered, sipping on the coffee that was left over from the walk to school. 

“We thought something happened to you.” Eunji cleared . I almost couldn’t tell because I hadn’t heard it in so long, but there was concern laced in her voice. It was the only thing she had said to me in what seemed like ages. I was happy that it seemed she still cared. 

“I’m fine,” I answered, hoping they wouldn’t catch that I ignored the initial concern. Something had happened to me, but even so, I was fine. I was fine because I was better than it. 

“Well, you haven’t missed much,” Namjoo informed me, leaning in slightly. “Except that everyone’s really curious about why Jongin ran off right before lunch, and why Kyungsoo looks like he got mauled. It’s a little too much of a coincidence, everyone seems to think.” 

She got cautious mentioning Jongin’s name. I looked at her, knowing that there would be a million questions swimming in her large eyes. And there were. She was positive something bad had happened, and I tried my best to show her that it was true. That something awful had happened, but that I was alive nonetheless. 

And that was the point of it all. Maybe the mantra I had been shouting repeatedly, telling myself that I was better than something I wasn’t so sure about, was a complete lie. Maybe, buried deep down in my heart, I knew that I wanted to be home, crying under my covers, wishing I had someone to rub the sobs slowly out of my body. And maybe, despite my desperately convincing myself otherwise, I could feel myself break down a little inside when I heard his name out loud. But, in the end. I was still alive. I was breathing, able to walk, and able to fulfill my responsibilities. 

The question of happiness or unhappiness could wait until later. For now, all that mattered was that I wasn’t dead. I learned, I grew, and I did not die. 

When the final bell rang, we grabbed our things and made our way to the auditorium. The day was filled with mindless preparations for the talent show, which was now known as the only thing that was occupying my mind. I spent my time thinking of how I was going to balance letting things run without any problems whatsoever, and how I was going to pour my soul into a performance that was worth the fate of the rest of my life. I ran every possible problem situation in my head, and found solutions to them. This was wonderful for letting the time pass almost too quickly. As much as I hated to admit it, it was also wonderful for distracting me. I could feel Jongin in the room. It was hard not to. I had spent almost my whole life not knowing who he was, or why he was the subject of so much fascination, but after what we had — rather, what I thought we had — he was almost impossible to ignore. He seemed to be this light that shone over everyone. His presence was the brightest thing many of us had probably ever seen. Even from the corner of my eye, from my deliberate attempts to keep him a dot in my peripheral vision, he looked incredible. 

But I had to stop thinking that way. I knew who he was now, and I had no time to fuel the fantasy everyone kept going. I should expose him for the scum he is, lay rest to the other claims made by so many other girls, but then I would be the fool. I would be the fool who couldn’t accept harsh reality, the fool who cared too much about someone who had forgotten the situation. I was definitely better than that, so I turned myself to work again. 

“It’s nice seeing you like that again,” Eunji called over to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. 

“Leaning over a piece of styrofoam, trying desperately not to mess up carving a crescent moon?” I answered, watching with quiet satisfaction as she characteristically rolled her eyes at me. I didn’t realize how much I had missed it when they weren’t shooting me daggers. I couldn’t ignore the slight sympathy in them, either, but I decided to address it another time. 

“Yes, definitely.” She laughed. “I mean, with that crease in your forehead and that determination in your eyes. That classic Naeun ‘I’m planning 400 different things at once’ look. For a while, it went away, but I’m glad that it’s back now.” 

“Yeah, well, I did some growing up.” I nodded. 

“Pres?” one of the boys called over to me. “It’s getting late now. Can we get going?” I looked over at my watch and saw that it was approaching the time I had planned to let everyone leave anyway, so I nodded, standing up. 

“Alright guys!” I called to the group, who immediately snapped their heads up. “I did plan to keep you guys for another half an hour, but I’m in a good mood, so you guys can go now!” 

Some cheered, and some just started to pile out wordlessly. I watched them all leave, and as much as I didn’t want to, my eyes made their way to Jongin, and I took him in for a split second. He didn’t leave immediately, and he glanced at the stage during the time that I spared him my attention. I didn’t see any more from him, and that was fine. I didn’t need to. 

Soon, it was just Namjoo, Eunji and I hanging back, cleaning up the mess other people had left. I could feel a strange stillness in the air, so I had readily anticipated the inquiries Namjoo was going to make. 

“Naeun,” she began, after receiving a not so subtle nudge from Eunji. “What happened?” 

Normally, I would beat around the bush, ask what could possibly make them come to the conclusion that something had happened, or insist that it wasn’t worth mentioning because I was obviously fine, but there was no point in it today. 

“A lot,” I began, sitting myself down on the stage floor. They followed. 

“First of all, should Eunji…” Namjoo trailed off. I knew she was referring to my general relationship that Eunji had missed, and whether or not I wanted her to know about it. There was reason for me not to, after all of what she had said to me. But that was the past, and I was willing to forget the situation completely. I turned to Eunji. 

“I thought I was in love with someone I met over the internet, anonymously. I let them into the complexities even you guys weren't aware of, and I gave him my soul. It turns out that person was Kim Jongin. I thought he was great. But I was right about him from the start. He used me for . He made a bet with his friends that he could get in bed with me, and I let him win,” I said bluntly, trying my best to have no emotion present in my voice. They were both silent. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Namjoo said first. 

“It doesn’t now that I think about it. Falling in love that easily. There’s stupid, and then there’s me.” I laughed. Nobody joined in. 

“No, I mean, why would he do that? Where did you hear that?” Namjoo knit her eyebrows together. 

“He did it because he’s an . All of his friends are s. At least one of them had even a tiny bit of morality and told me about it.” I shrugged, picking at the bits of styrofoam laying on the floor around me. 

“Which one?” she asked. 

“Kyungsoo.” 

“The one who came to school looking like he needs facial reconstruction? Naeun, don’t you think that’s a little strange? I mean, obviously something’s going on. Don’t you think Jongin did that to him for lying to you?” Namjoo asked, and I swore she was getting more emotional than I had during this conversation. 

“Or he did it to him when he found out that he told me the truth and that he spoiled his little game before he could see the look on my face at finding out the truth,” I snapped back. It felt odd that she was defending him and not me. 

“It still doesn’t make sense. I saw the way he looked at you. You can’t fake that look. Naeun-“ I cut her off before she could assume anything else. 

“Well, he did, so you obviously can.” 

“Naeun.” Eunji spoke for the first time. I turned to look at her, almost afraid of what she would say. 

“I said earlier that I was happy to see that look in your eye again. But after I said that, I looked again. It wasn’t the same, like I thought before. I know you’ve always been unhappy. I think everyone’s always known that. Nobody said anything because we all assumed you knew how to get through it. The difference now is that the unhappiness isn’t muted in your eyes anymore. There’s no emotion whatsoever. That’s what’s scary

“I’m sorry that this happened to you, I really am. I’m sorry I couldn’t hear about any of this while it was going on, because I would’ve loved to hear about you being in love. I’m sorry I made it seem like I didn’t because I took it upon myself to be some kind of voice of reason or something. But what I ignored then, before someone I think I love softened me up, is that no matter who you are, you’re still human. Even Son Naeun, the unstoppable, determined President has the right to have emotions. And now, it’s scary that you’ve pushed them away completely because something like this happened to you. 

“It’s okay to be reckless for a while. You’re young. We may live in a society where even the slightest mistake at a young age could alter your life forever, but what good is stability when you look back at your life and don’t remember what it felt like to be irrational, what it felt like to think the world was going to collapse because you didn’t get a text back. What good is being alive if you’re not letting yourself live? Not just the good parts. You’ve lived that, obviously. And maybe it was all a lie, but it’s still an experience. But you have to let yourself live the bad parts too. You have to cry when you want to. Not just at a missed opportunity, or a lost educational path. You have to let yourself be sad, and let people see you be sad. You’re not strong because you hold back tears in public, or because you act like the sadness isn’t worth mentioning. Strength is measured in how you handle situations, and suppressing your emotions, vowing to pretend like things didn’t happen is not handling things well. Please, please let yourself feel everything.” 

And so I did let myself feel everything. 

I let myself cry in front of them. Not just cry, blubber like a baby. I cried until I couldn’t breathe anymore, until they were crying with me. 

I told them about Kaeun, then, too. 

I felt relief after I finally finished. Eunji was right, as she usually is. I finally felt the strength I had so been trying to fabricate all day. 

I stopped pretending I was invincible, because I was better than that. 

Tears wouldn’t discount any of my growth. 

It's February! All of my apps are turned in, and I have time to breathe now. Hope you guys aren't too mad at me, and are still invested in the story. 

Let me know what you thought! A lot has been going on with me, and these past few months have been sort of a journey. I was going to make another video of myself just talking because I like doing that way more than I should, but I was like meh. Hope you're all doing really well. Much love to everyone that's still here. 

J