Six Years Ago

Seoul University

My eyes wander back to the farthest corner of the theatre, where Park Sandara was laying face down on the wooden brown floor, watching another woman dancing with her partner from weeks ago.

      Her body is plopped up on her elbows, her bandaged ankle is resting on a pillow and her gaze is focused and drifting from one dancer to the other.

      “Kwon Jiyong!” Professor Wang slams his palm on a table nearby and I immediately turn my attention towards him, my face burning – The group huddled around us snicker at me and I catch a glimpse of her head turning in our direction. “You are late and distracted? Get your head out of the gutter boy, or your team is out.”

      I bow my head, “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

      “It better not,” he breathes in deeply and turns to the two people huddled together behind me. “Lee Seunghyun and Yoo Rachel, how many times do I have to remind you? No flirting between team members! What is wrong with the bunch of you?”

      A chorus of half-hearted hushed apologies follow. I scratch the back of my head and subtly look over Yongbae’s shoulders at her, and our eyes connect for a second before she scowls and turns back around. I chuckle to myself. She must be upset about what happened earlier I guess.

      I do not regret it.

      Mr. Wang gives us all a warning look before going on about the performances in two weeks’ time. Yongbae nudges my side with his elbow and I wince, glaring at him. He glares back, his nose flaring and his lips pursed.

      “Stop looking at the Goddamn dancers,” he hisses, darting his eyes towards Wang for a brief second. “Can you focus for once Jiyong?”

      “It’s her,” I whisper back, “The one I told you about? The ballerina?” He raises his eyebrow, sneaking a look at her, then the professor, then myself. “No one will mind you talking, Bae,” I roll my eyes, “It’s not like we’re in school anymore.”

      He ignores me and looks over again. “I never knew she was your type.”

      “What?” I scoff, “you know her?”

      “She’s always around Kang Daesung,” he shrugs, “They hangout all the time – she was in one of our classes in freshman year.”

      What?

      “Who’s Kang Daesung?”

      He smacks my arm and nods his head to my left at a boy who was taking notes attentively, his face beaming with a smile so wide, it could’ve sliced his face into two halves. He looks creepy. And annoying. But mostly creepy.

       “That guy. Remember once Seungri mistook him for a janitor in front of the whole class?” Ah, that guy. Yongbae sighs. “We’re one year away from graduation and you don’t know half of the people!”

      “I don’t care, really,” I look at him again and shudder – that smile. “Anyways, I’ve never seen her with him.”

      “Ji, they’re always together.”

      “Are we even talking about the same person here?” I snap at him, deliberately lowering my voice. “I’ve never seen Park Sandara with that creeper, end of discussion.”

      He hits his forehead. “I’m talking about Choi Hye Yoon, you idiot.”

      “Choi-?” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, “I’m not talking about her. I don’t even ing know her.”

      “I thought you meant the ballerina over there?”

      “I did,” I rake my fingers through my hair, “The one on the ground, Bae.”

      He looks behind us again, and hums in response. “The one with the bandaged ankle?”

      “Dong Yongbae, I thought you were the responsible one!” Professor Wang yells at us before I could say anything, and I feel my best friend freezing in his place. He bows apologetically, and forces me down with him.

      For the next hour or so, I try my best to focus on the useless blabber anyone could’ve told me – When to be there, how to prepare our songs, the MR submission. The list can go on. But my eyes wander back to her. She remains on the ground, watching silently, laughing along with the dancing partners and ignoring me completely.

      Was I crude back there? Offending her was not the plan, but it seems like I had done just that.

      Just as we’re being dismissed, while I’m looking at her once again for the thousandth time, I follow her with my eyes as she gets up in a sitting position and cradles her long brown locks over one shoulder, leaving the other one in my line of vision completely bare.

      I gulp.

      Milky white. I can sworn I feel the softness of her skin touch as I trace her neck with my eyes along with her bare fingers as they caress it.

      My eyes slide to her side profile.

      If someone had said perfection is unachievable, I cry pity. Because if they had seen what my eyes now do, perfection was very much possible.

      Perfection is, in every sense, her.

      Her lips small and delicate, her nose smooth as it slides down between her eyes – and oh, those eyes. My mind goes back to our confrontation outside, and I melt into the picture of her chocolate covered pupils. Streaks of Amber, Maize and Gold swirling around like light strings, glowing and flaming as they magnetically draw me in.

      As if I hadn’t been in already.

      Someone coughs next to me, and I am brought back to real life. I don’t even have to look away from her, “What do you want, Yongbae?”

      “A way to celebrate us getting into the End of Semester Festival would be to join the party the kids are throwing,” he hold my chin much to my annoyance and brings it to face him, his eyes reaching the tip of my nose. “Not stare at dancers from across the hall like you want to devour them for dinner.”

      “This is more fun than a party thrown by some drunkard.”

      “This is called being a ert, Jiyong.”

      I shrug: “Then, so be it.”

      “Yah, Dara! Hye Yoon!” The disturbing smiling person from before come running from behind us towards the two girls, whose attention is now in our direction. I meet her eyes, and she quickly looks away with an eye roll but transforming into a smile as she stands up, concentrating on the over-excited ball of… smiles.

      “He is so irritating,” I whisper to Yongbae, “I don’t like him at all.”

      He scoffs. “You don’t like anyone. And frankly, nobody cares. I’ll meet you at the café across the street in thirty minutes – you better be there. And we are going to the party.” With that he leaves.

      Do I sigh in relief because I am finally left alone without him being a smartass, or throw one of the many props behind him because of his former comment and the party decision? Before having the chance to do anything, I catch a glimpse Grin Face talking with the girl I’ve been monitoring.

      “How’s your ankle Dara?” he bends on one knee, lightly touching her wrapped injury. I tilt my head to the side and feel the edges of my nails dig through my palm.

      “Better now, Daesung.” She smiles and touches his shoulder making him stand to his feet, his stupid facial expression the same throughout. “I see you’ve been chosen for the performance! Congratulations.”

      “How did you know about that?” Yes, Park. How did you know?

      “Oh, Hye Yoon unnie told me.” She glances at the girl in a black and golden leotard beside her. The said girl was tall, her body chubbier than that of Park Sandara’s but still thin – Curvy I guess would be the way to describe her.

      Her hair was in a bun, just like the other ballerinas two weeks ago. The length of it was a natural shade of blond, but the dark brown roots peeking through the front revealed otherwise. Her eyes were sharp and narrow, bordered by thick black lines, her nose pointy and her lips wide and painted a bright red.

      Was she the ballerina Yongbae was referring to?

      Choi Hye Yoon?

      She was seductive.

      Unnaturally so.

      Having missed part of their conversation, I manage to catch the last part of what the said girl was saying to Sandara. “…you go back home alone?”      

      “It’s okay, unnie!” she hugs her small bag to her side, dangling by her lovely white dress. “I promised my mother I’ll have dinner with her.”

      “But it’s dark Dara,” Grin Face butts in, his voice bringing a scowl to my face. “And you’re hurt. We’ll drop you off.”

      “I don’t want to bother you guys, our directions are completely different anyways. I’ll just be holding you back-”

      The girl next to her stomps her feet – not in ballerina shoes anymore, but high stilettos instead. Her voice was tight and smoky. “Don’t be ridiculous. Seunghyun Oppa is picking us up anyways.”

      “Unnie-”

      “Dara, my brother has been dying to meet you ever since he came back from the states, but you’ve been ignoring him.”

      I raise an eyebrow and divert my attention to the now shuffling girl in question.

      “I haven