Chapter 1

Thursday evening, I walked into our apartment exhausted and disappointed. My interview didn’t go well. It’s about the internship in England for one year. I’ve been dreaming to roam this place since I got my first tooth but the international scholarship directress said, “Alright Ms. Choi, we will contact you for the next internship program. Unfortunately, there are more promising students for the offer...” with her real-tough British accent wherein the r is pronounced as ah... like offeh instead of offer and moh as in more. “I’m sure; you’ll find a great one.”

All I wanted is to cry; and to shut down my life. But rather, I stepped into my shower hoping the water running will wash away my sorrow. I do all my thinking in the shower, for some reason, the sound of water dripping gently into my skin is heavenly—sometimes I laugh and cry without my housemate caring. Her name is Jiyoung, she’s a tall rich kid. Guys fancy her especially when she recently dyed her hair into strawberry blonde while mine is long drizzly metal brown that I never bothered to tie. Actually my hair already seems to have this ombre style wherein the upper half is black and the lower is metal brown. I didn’t mean it this way—I just didn’t have all the time and money in the world to spend. I’m a very plain girl. Nobody actually notice me. I am only 5 ft 2 inches with my fair complexion. I would be really contented if I haven’t got these pimples and acne scars all over my face. Apparently, these things inhibit my face for more than 2 years and then they finally stopped but the hell with that, they left these messy scars all over my face. I sighed in exasperation—maybe I just think too much.

“Oh my God!” Jiyoung screamed all of a sudden. I immediately wrap my body with towel then ran into her. “What was that?” I asked frantically.

She looked at me in a bewildered expression then trails off again to the computer screen. “For goodness’ sake, Jiyoung! Don’t tell me it’s your stupid boy band thing again.” I rolled my eyes. It’s always like this. Jiyoung screams as if she’s been kidnapped which turns out to be her boy band-fantasy but then I always come to her even if it means cutting off my shower and running into the bedroom fluffy and wet with soap.

“No!” She screamed again while I was on my way back to the bathroom. “No Sulli, wait! It’s Kris!” The sound of my ex-boyfriend’s name froze me—it’s not as if I’m still hoping for him to come back, in fact I don’t ever wish him to come back—it’s just... it’s just I’m afraid he would reveal our little secret over the internet.

“What is it Jiyoung?” I mutter. Jiyoung started reading “Kris Wu is feeling loved with Napicka Rebin.”

With that—I sigh. “Hey! Aren’t you affected with that? Don’t act as if...” Jiyoung shouted but I barely able to hear her since I already get inside my shower again. That’s a relief! I whisper to myself while shampooing my hair. Kris and I broke up 1 month ago after our they’re-the-lucky-ones relationship. People always quote that from Taylor Swift’s song Story of Us since we’re some sort of couple in this place. I’m a huge fan of Taylor and that really makes my heart big when we were still together. Of course, people say that because I’m a Filipina, he’s French and we are in Vietnam—very international. We should have as well created an International Lovers Campaign for UN. Lol, it ain’t gonna happen anymore.

We both got this undergraduate scholarship and chose to stay here. We were like best friends for the first year that turned-out to be in an awkward-sweet relationship during the second year. We didn’t last long actually; it was only 3 months and poof! He was gone! We broke up. All I can do is to shrug with the thought. Of course it was painful. The most painful one since I started going to University but it’s also a relief not to be with him anymore. He’s such a stupid guy anyway. When we broke up, people always mention how they feel sorry for both of us. I usually shrug and just roll my eyes with them. They don’t know everything—and my best friend, Jiyoung, is one of them. There are still things that I don’t and will never ever tell her.

As soon as I finished my bath, Jiyoung is preparing two bottles of vodka in the living room. We are living on the same apartment since first year. “Hey! What was that for?” I asked curiously.

She shrugged with her usual I’m-always-here-for-you eyes followed with a deep sigh.

“Oh come on! Will you please cut the crap that I’m still into him? For the nth time Jiyoung, I would never compete with that stupid-named .”

“See?!” she exclaimed. “That is the reason I’m preparing this! You’re being so bitter. You still can’t get over him with that Napirkan-chuchu-whatever-her-name-is.”

I exhale. I let out a deep breath of exasperation with a dismissing hand-gesture. Really, can this day be more exhausting?

“Nah! You’re not my best friend.” I walk into my room but I got a glimpse of Jiyoung’s expression as I turn back. She’s offended, I do not know but I was hoping that at least she has that sense I already got over him—she’s my best friend. I expected better from her.

The warmth of my bed relaxed all the veins in my body and very soon, I passed out.

***

The next day I woke up from the sun rays begging to enter my thick-curtained room. It’s almost 11a.m already. It’s Christmas vacation so I didn’t bother getting up early. I fixed my gaze into my ceiling. It’s white and full of spider webs along the corners—it’s too high and I am most of the time feeling lazy to clean it.

This apartment has two rooms; it’s big enough for Jiyoung and I. Before, Kris always comes by to visit—he often stays late. Jiyoung doesn’t bother, she never has a boyfriend. She always says that her boy bands are enough. Wait. My eyebrows crease as I listen carefully to nothing—yeah, nothing. At this time of the day Jiyoung always turns on her ipod to the highest volume of the speaker while playing Ed Sheeran’s song. We both love him.

I slid my legs out of my orange blanket and the chills soon arrived. The winter here in the North of Vietnam is cold but there’s no snow. Usually, the weather is somewhat like autumn—but still, it’s way so amazing and chilly since we don’t have this weather at home.

I am now on my way to the kitchen but still, no of sign of Jiyoung. Is she mad? “Jiyoung?” I called out but she didn’t respond so I decided to go to her room—in my surprise, everything is so clean and well-arranged. As in the bed has nothing, I opened her cabinet and her clothes are gone. I felt a lump inside my throat. Then there it is, a sticky note lies above her television saying

 “I’m sorry, Sulli. I should have told you earlier but I can’t figure out how. I got the internship offer in England. I’m sorry, I know this means a lot to you but I think I need to show you how, in many ways, I’m better than you. By the time you read this, I might be on the plane already so don’t bother contacting me.”

It’s not a lump of tears that’s begging to come out from my throat anymore; it is bad words—million combination of bad words wanting me to curse her! I continue reading...

 “P.S. I am with Kris.”

I don’t know what is it but I feel like somebody stabbed me. Am I hurt? Yes I am! But I can’t bring myself to cry. I worked hard for that internship and she knows that! And yet, she also knows that this kind of bomb will wreck me. Well, this has already wrecked our relationship.

Damn it! I am frustrated this time. Now, I understand what does the who interviewed me meant about “more capable”, it means “more capable of covering their own expenses” people with money. Not to be judgemental or something, but Jiyoung is never an A+ or B student. She’s living off with her charm and money to pass all the subjects. And I accepted her like that. I became friends with her for who she is, and this is her payback?

Well  them! And  you Jiyoung!

Besides, what was going on between her and Kris? Is that supposed to be a warning or a victory trophy?

I slammed the door so hard that for a second I’m afraid I cracked it. Because that means I have to pay for repair. And fortunately I didn’t. But I’m still mad—so mad that I can feel my veins throbbing in my head.

I went back to my room to grab my small vintage duffel bag and put a shirt and my wallet. I wore my warm yet comfortable sweat shirt paired with my black converse. I’m in danger of crying but I still suppress it, I feel my nerves angrily curve on my forehead—there is one thing I could do to this anger—to wind up, drink vodka bottoms-up, dance and fly until the top.

Wind up and fly away, that is what I’m gonna do. Drink up? I’ll work on that when I touchdown to my destination. Hanoi, it is.

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Hi guys! This is my latest installment of fanfiction. I use different names and different characteristics so that imagination of our favorite idols will never be limited. (Imagine them playing roles very different for what they trully are)

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