4: Complexities

Park Chorong lied down on a bed full of pillows and stuffed toys. From all those pillows, she grabbed the fluffiest, whitest pillow and hugged it with all her might. Today must be one of the most bothersome days of her life. No, it’s not must. Today had turned her other bad days into mere societal concerns.

She lamented her recently lost friendship then immediately whacked herself with the pillow she was holding. Replaying that unforeseen moment in her head did not do her any good as it was a bid burden and a major disturbance to her damaged soul.

After a brief beating to her sanity, she screamed all her frustrations to the poor pillow which unfortunately could not do anything about her outbursts for it was only an inanimate object.

Namjoo erupted through the door and yelled, “Rong unnie!”

Although a bit surprised, Chorong only turned her head towards Namjoo and grunted. “What?”

Namjoo rolled her eyes and sighed in distress. She learned a new lesson because of Chorong: never let a friend runaway from her problems. Especially if the place she chose would be her home.

She massaged her temples hoping that it will refresh her mind from impure thoughts like throwing her guest out the window. Coincidentally, her mother had opened the window before Chorong entered her room. She averted her eyes from the inviting framework.

“Unnie, couldn’t you just wait for me quietly?” She complained. “My dad almost barged in here with a mop, thinking you were in danger or something.”

She half-heartedly smiled at her and chuckled. “Sorry.”

There were numerous sheep stickers attached on the ceiling and she stared at it with no interest. She was about to count the sheep out loud, but Namjoo had been observing her. She was still at the door frame, watching her keen eyes.

“Namjoo, where are our drinks?” She asked – attention still on the stickers in spite of her friend’s monitoring.

“I’ll prepare snacks too,” she added after asking Chorong her preferred drink.

Namjoo closed the door quietly before her. She remembered how cold Chorong’s hand felt against her bare skin when she caught up to her. Sweat had formed on her forehead; she guessed that she ran away from something, or someone. Chorong invited herself to her house and her sudden visit didn’t bother her at all.

Then Chorong started on rambling on and on about Taehyung. Yifan’s name would also appear once in a while during their conversation. She told her everything – from start to end – and made her promise not to tell Eunji. Why? Namjoo didn’t have the opportunity to ask thanks to Chorong’s endless grumbles full of disgruntlement. It wasn’t a conversation anymore. Namjoo sat there and listened.

That’s the best thing she could offer as a friend.

Even though the urge to talk entered her instincts, she listened to her all the way. No interuptions, just pure listening and understanding. She might be tired, and her friend’s frenzies drained her energy, she needed to prove herself worthy of her friendship by being reliable and trustworthy. She’s not like Wu Yifan, who from the start, was undeniably unworthy of Chorong’s time and love.

He broke her trust in just one snap.

Now Taehyung impatiently comes into the picture; selfishly proclaiming his love out of nowhere without even thinking how it would affect Chorong.

Instead of throwing Chorong out of the window, she grinned at the thought of kneeing Taehyung’s stomach.

Meanwhile, Chorong partaked the eerie silence enveloping the room. The wind caused the curtains to flutter in the air for several seconds. One, two, three… The curtains stopped floating in mid-air. She closed her eyes… Opened them in regret of doing so. A face came into mind; a face she didn’t like to recognize.

Isn’t it so distasteful? How emotions or feelings never seem to listen to the mind?

She called herself crazy and unreal. The pieces she picked on her own, that he left her with, was still unsettled. But she missed him, in the midst of all that.

She missed him, no matter how much her chest throbbed.

She missed him, no matter how much her friend’s feelings lead her astray.

She missed him, no matter what.

The face that she finally saw today, she missed it so much that upon seeing it made her smile in front of him.

Seriously, she must be crazy.

*****

“Oh,” Taeyeon reacted. “Okay. I’ll bring your clothes right away.”

“Clothes? What clothes?” Taehyung questioned her.

Taeyeon put the telephone down and scowled at him. She pinched his ear while pulling him to the couch so they could sit and talk properly.

“What,” she grimly said, “did you do now?”

He ignored her piercing stare. He had no plan of telling Kim Taeyeon about his problem. No plan, at all.

“Kim Taehyung,” she warned.

But if he doesn’t answer, his cousin will definitely throw his Star Wars Collection. The scary thought caused him to shiver.

“I didn’t do anything,” he lied. “Where is Chorong noona?”

Very smooth, he criticized himself.

Taeyeon knew he was lying. His concern for Chorong meant that he did something unnecessary and stupid again. Underneath his cheery exterior, he was actually a very impatient person who easily gets swayed by his feelings. He was one of those persons who listen more to his heart than his mind. He acts impulsively because of that.

She also knew that she shouldn’t meddle between the two. She tried to control Taehyun and his feelings for quite almost a year now. Yet he only complied to be patient just for the sake of Chorong – she was still together with Wu Yifan.

Basing on his personality, his jealousy towards her ex-boyfriend lead to him confessing his feelings for her.

“How could you push Rongie into a corner?” she thought aloud.

“What?” Taehyung squinted at her unfair remark. “Are you blaming me? Whys is everybody blaming me?”

Taeyeon sighed. “Taehyu- ”

“Even she blamed me,” he uttered. “I didn’t drive her into a corner, he did. I’m getting the hate for what he did.”

“So you finally admitted that you did something unconvential,” she commented. She felt his guilt, and his misery made her feel a bit guilty herself.

An exasperated sigh esacped from his lips. He did feel guilty, but not regret. Why would he regret expressing what he felt after so many months of self-co